Love By Decree
by Mafsarhet
Summary: When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

_This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!_

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

**Love By Decree**

"We cannot allow this to happen! Amaleigh, talk to him! You're his sister; he may listen to you!"

Elliot's desperate whisper enveloped Princess Amaleigh in a cloak of cold dread. Of course she would attempt to dissuade her brother from executing the villagers who had demonstrated their disapproval of his labour policies just outside the Castle, but how could she do so? Logan was the King and he had been a harsh ruler for years. She did not know of any instance where anyone who had begged for leniency received it. She pressed her perspiring palms on the heavy oaken door and pushed it open; too quickly, apparently, as she and Elliot burst in awkwardly and almost fell over each other in their haste.

They had just heard her brother order his guards to start shooting the protesters beginning with the leaders, and then, if necessary, fire into the mob. They had to stop him!

"Logan!"

Her brother's name tumbled quickly and desperately from her lips before she could even formulate what she would say to him; if he even deigned to acknowledge her at all. Logan was not a man who would necessarily pay heed to anyone who attempted to speak with him, especially if he had already given an order.

Her brother's head jerked around and his piercing dark eyes bored into hers with an almost palpable intensity and an unquestionably hostile glare. Amaleigh gasped at the unnerving sight and momentarily lost her footing, but she quickly found herself steadied by Elliot's warm and sure grip on her arm.

"What are you doing here? The War Room is no place for a child!"

Logan's angry gaze swept over her and his lips curled in disdain and annoyance. "I have serious business here, Amaleigh. I suggest you return to your rooms at once."

"I am not a child, Logan; I am a woman grown! I have come in here to stop you from murdering those people!"

Logan's steps as he slowly and purposefully strode toward her thudded eerily on the carpeted floor. His sunken eyes raked over her form appraisingly but his expression did not reveal his opinion of her. When he turned his gaze to Elliot, however, contempt effused from his every pore.

"Murder? I beg to differ, dear sister. You and your 'friend' have no business here. This is a matter of civil disobedience and violence. Leave now else risk finding yourselves in a position you will both regret."

"Saving lives is not something either of us would regret, Logan."

"Indeed?"

The King stroked his chin thoughtfully, and then raised one black-gloved hand and clenched it into a fist. Instantly harsh and heavy hands of two guards clamped down on both Amaleigh's and Elliot's shoulders and gripped them fiercely.

"Take my sister and her 'friend' to the Throne Room. Let us make this matter more... official, shall we?"

"Please, we never wanted anyone to get hurt!"

"I just want to go home!"

"We'll leave, we promise!"

The desperate sobs and pleas of the villagers who had headed the demonstration in the Castle Courtyard now stood off to one side in the Throne Room. Three men and two women stood quivering and huddling together in abject terror.

"This is monstrous!" Elliot whispered, his tousled honey-brown hair clinging to his damp forehead. "I can scarcely believe this is the same King Logan of several years ago!"

"Neither can I!" Amaleigh replied, appalled. Her brother was once a King whom the People had loved. What had changed him so? Why had he, a few short years ago, suddenly became a harsh man who over-extended himself, exhausted himself into a constant ill temper, and was utterly merciless in his policies? Where had her fair and loving brother gone? The man before her on the Throne was a mockery of the man she had once adored and idolized.

The King shifted on the Throne to lean forward and his dark eyes locked with Amaleigh's green ones.

"Come closer, my dear Amaleigh; my dear, dear sister."

The words were slowly and very deliberately uttered. Every sound in the room ceased as Amaleigh's lips parted in sudden fear and her half-boots shuffled on the carpet. Elliot reached for her hand as she slowly moved forward. She barely felt his fingertips brush to seek hers. With heart-dropping regret, she continued her slow and unsteady journey toward the Throne.

"Do not touch her, boy!" Logan hissed. "Guards, force that miserable spy to his knees and keep him there!"

Elliot was brutally shoved to his knees, but neither he nor Amaleigh dared to protest.

Logan's gaze fixed on his sister's mouth as her dry tongue attempted to moisten her fear-parched lips.

Amaleigh was now within his reach. Logan seized her hand and pulled her so close to him that when she stopped she was standing almost between his knees.

"My dear Amaleigh, today you have both disappointed and hurt me beyond measure. You have not only betrayed me, but you have used our blood-tie to wound me to my very heart. How am I to endure such a thing?"

"How can I wound a man who has no heart?"

Someone gasped.

Logan's eyes narrowed in surprise.

Amaleigh inhaled sharply in shock at her own audacity.

"Heartless, am I?" Logan asked, gripping both of her small hands in one large gloved one. "Well, you will allow me to demonstrate to you that you are mistaken, will you not?"

"Yes, Logan," she said softly, but everyone could hear her regardless. She felt the very air still in anticipation of the next words to be spoken. "Please, prove me wrong!"

Would he? Would he possibly show mercy to those trembling in fear for their lives before him?

Logan rose, and still holding his sister's hands, walked her a few steps toward the leaders of the demonstrators.

"These, my dear sister, are the leaders of the violent mob outside. Behind us is that friend of yours who has proven himself a spy. You are no longer a child and I shall no longer treat you as one. You are, as you say, a woman grown. You are the Princess. I shall therefore allow you to decide how punishment is to be apportioned."

"Please, Logan, free them all! They have learned their lesson!"

"I disagree; not in that they have not learned, but in that allowing them to go free they shall set a dangerously bad example to Albion. Freeing them will only encourage others to behave as they did."

"No, please!" a man begged, his voice shaking so badly he could scarcely be understood. "We won't do or say anything!"

"We'll never breathe a word, we promise!" one of the women squeaked in terror.

"You see?" Amaleigh whispered softly, "just let them go, Logan! If you still harbour any love for me at all, won't you do this one thing for me?"

Logan's breath hitched violently. "Love?" he whispered harshly back at her. "What do you know of love? You have betrayed me! You have never once spoken to me of any concerns you have obviously had and you have long ago stopped even seeing me! Why should I listen to, much less believe, a single word you say?"

There was a flash of unmistakable anguish in her brother's eyes, but it was gone in an instant. However, shame flooded through Amaleigh. He was right in that, at least. She had indeed not spoken to him nor even approached him for almost two years. In fact, they barely ever crossed paths; and that was her doing, not his.

"I..." she stammered, completely bewildered, humiliated, shamed, and afraid all at once. "I don't know what to say, Logan, except that I am sorry! You are right. I should have spoken with you! I should have been a better sister to you."

Logan raised his head and nodded toward the captive villagers, indicating that their private conversation was over.

"You wish to prove to me that you are someone I should listen to? Very well, decide then who shall be executed; the leaders of the mob, or that piece-of-filth spy on his knees!"

Amaleigh whirled around in horror and saw Elliot's face blanch. His large doe-like eyes were wide in fear and he shook so violently that he looked as if he were in immanent danger of fainting.

"Decide who dies?" Her voice rang disbelieving and almost disembodied from her pale parched lips.

"You are the Princess; choose!"

Logan moved behind her as silent and eerie as a shadow and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "You want the opportunity to spare the villagers, now you have your chance. Allow the boy to die and they shall live. Allow him to live and they shall die. It is quite simple."

"I won't do it!"

His hands squeezed her shoulders painfully and Amaleigh winced.

"Really? Fail to make a choice and they will all die."

"You can't let that happen, Amaleigh!" Elliot cried out desperately. "You can't allow them all to die! Choose me; you must choose me!"

"Shut up!" Logan snapped at him, and Elliot fell silent.

"You can't mean that!" She attempted to turn to face Logan but his grip was too solid. He forced her to remain facing the onlookers and shook her to force her mind back to the matter at hand.

"I can and I do. Choose now!"

"Logan," she whispered, "please, allow me to beg a boon of you!"

He spun her around and pulled her so close to him that her forehead nearly brushed his nose.

"Be quiet and quick about it, then! And also tell me why I should allow you to beg anything at all of me!"

Amaleigh swallowed and tilted her head back to look up into Logan's fierce and menacing visage.

"I know I don't deserve a boon, but I beg it nonetheless! Please, spare them all! If you do, I shall do anything you ask of me!"

He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Anything, you say?" His voice was low and silky, and his breath ghosted over her ear and the nape of her neck.

Goose-flesh erupted over her entire body and Amaleigh's throat constricted so tightly with fear that she could scarcely breathe. She knew that he must have something positively dreadful in mind to speak to her in such a tone.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice so low and choked that she did not know if Logan had heard her.

Apparently he had, for Logan turned her back around to face the onlookers. Amaleigh had been so frightened that she had not noticed that her mentor and surrogate grand-father, Walter, was in the room along with a handful of ever-present nobles, the Royal Secretary, and of course, the purple-clad 'King's Guards.'

"My sister has successfully negotiated your freedom," Logan announced. "Return to your homes and keep your promises. I will tolerate no further protests or acts of sedition of any kind. The boy shall also live. All of you; leave at once!"

As everyone save the Secretary and four guards hurried from the room, Logan bent down to Amaleigh's ear once more and whispered to her.

"I shall exact a price from you, Amaleigh, and you will either make the best of it or suffer from it; the Choice will be yours."

"What... What do I have to do?"

"You will marry a man of my choosing."

For the first time in her one and twenty years the Princess understood first-hand the meaning of the saying 'the blood ran cold.' Her very blood indeed seemed to chill in her veins and a vise of steel mercilessly clasp her furiously pounding heart.

"But Elliot..."

"Is a foppish boy. You had best forget him, Amaleigh, for you shall never marry him."

"But I love him!" Hot stinging tears pricked her eyes and she barely managed to choke out the words.

Logan now moved in front of her and seized her arms. "I love you, Amaleigh, despite your treachery! That, and that alone, is the reason I granted you that boon. Will you now go back on your word?"

"No, of course not!" If she did, all of the accused, and perhaps Elliot also, would die. Even if she had to live the rest of her life without Elliot, she could not bear to be the cause, however indirect, of his death. Nor, as a woman of honour, would she ever go back on a solemn vow.

"Good, you have scruples and hold to them."

"Who must I marry?" she asked, her voice hollow and defeated as she looked into Logan's sunken, but glittering eyes.

"I shall decide that later, dear Amaleigh. You can trust me that I shall not marry you off to a beggar or a common man. I am, as I have just proven, not heartless."

"But now I no longer have a heart," she heard herself whispering forlornly. "It is dead."

"Then you shall not mind over-much your lot in life once I have decided it," Logan replied. He kissed her cheek, his lips warm and moist.

Amaleigh was so stunned and heart-sick that she barely noticed.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree

#2

Major Jackson Edward Hardwicke Swift opened his latest missive from the King. He scanned the usual greeting and formalities and then his mouth dropped open in shock. His pipe tumbled from his lips and he had to fumble to catch it before it struck the surface of his desk.

_Now, what I write of next is something that will undoubtedly surprise you, Major. It is imperative that you fully realise that you are under no obligation to accept what it is that I offer you. As you will see, there will be a consequence if you do not, but it need not overly concern you, as that 'consequence' relates to a traitor to Albion._

_In exchange for a generous raise in pay and new equipment and plentiful supplies for Mourningwood Fort, I offer you the hand in marriage of a very eligible and highly accomplished young woman. She is beautiful, cultured, well-educated, of a splendid family, possesses fine temperament, and is, in every way, extremely desirable as a potential wife. _

_However, this same woman is also a traitor to the Crown, and thus to Albion, and if you do not wish to accept her in matrimony, she will live out the rest of her days in the Castle Dungeons. She will never walk free nor see the sun ever again, but neither will she be executed. You needn't fear for her life._

_I have decided upon this unusual course of action for reasons of my own; however, I will reveal one of them to you. This woman agreed to do anything I asked of her if I would grant her a boon. For a man with your scruples and admirable principles, it will please you to know that she did so to save the lives of eight people, all of whom were to be immediately executed. _

_I will not explain why I have chosen you to be the man who may or may not decide to accept her as your wife, only that I have. I also will not explain why I am exacting this particular price from her. However, the offer to you is a good one. There are no concealed liabilities regarding the lady, so be easy in your mind if that is of concern._

_I expect a response from you within a ten-day. If you do not respond, the offer will formally and irrevocably be withdrawn. _

_There is nothing undesirable about the young woman, so you need not concern yourself on that matter. In fact, if it will help you to decide in her favour, I will add that she is one whom almost any man in Albion would do anything to not only wed, but possess._

Major Swift, also known as 'Gentleman Jack', who was held in high esteem and loved and respected by his men, was caught by his second in command, Captain Benjamin Finn, in a rare, and possibly a once in a lifetime, instance.

The Major was seated at his desk, mouth agape, pipe held awkwardly in one hand, letter clutched in his other, eyes wide and unblinking, and the man himself utterly speechless.

When the younger man addressed him several times in succession, the Major didn't even hear him.

* * *

><p>"Gods, Amaleigh, he can't mean that!"<p>

Amaleigh sobbed desolately into Elliot's neck. They clung to each other as if to a lifeline, but it was of scant comfort.

They were in their favourite place in the Castle Gardens, a place they had called their own since they had been children. It was a sweetly secluded spot behind an ancient weather-worn statue of a King whose name had long since been erased by the elements.

How fitting, Amaleigh thought, as she gazed tearfully over Elliot's shoulder at the statue. This man's name had been erased and lost forever by forces beyond his control. Now, her and Elliot's love faced the same terrible fate. Logan was forever erasing; nay, mercilessly extinguishing, any hope for their love and a future together. To save Elliot's life, she had forfeited her very heart and any chance for happiness along with it.

"Oh, but he does, Elliot; he told me so! He's so angry and hurt! He wants to punish me, but at the same time he has just enough love for me left inside him that he allowed me to save those people."

"And me," Elliot whispered, his voice shaking. He stroked her back and kissed the nape of her neck softly, tenderly, as if he feared she would shatter like crystal.

"Yes, and you," she choked. His kisses, once so pleasurable and exciting, now filled her with unfathomable sadness. Each gentle kiss, each rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, each moment of time that passed, was like a small piece of Death eating away at her soul.

Did she even have a soul any longer? She felt as if she had no heart, and if that was so, wasn't she now a soulless creature, forever doomed to despair? Even hollow emptiness would be preferable to the agony that was now slowly and raggedly cleaving away every shred of happiness she had ever possessed..

"You feel pain,"Elliot whispered, sensing her thoughts. "You have a heart, Amaleigh. It still beats, and it still loves. Logan could not take it from you."

"But he took you from me. What good is my heart if it can only be filled with anguish?"

"Oh, my love!" He cupped her tear-streaked face and kissed her trembling lips. "I am so sorry! I wish you had chosen me to die!"

Amaleigh jerked back, eyes flashing angrily even through her copious tears. "No! Would you have done so were you in my place?"

His eyes squeezed closed and his lips twitched and quivered. "No! I... I never could have done! Oh, Amaleigh, you did the best you could. You are not to blame, and you saved so many lives!" He sucked in an uneven breath and opened his eyes. "I love you, and will always love you, Amaleigh. Some way, some how, we'll make our way through this together."

"But he can marry me off any time now! What can we do? I cannot go back on my word, Elliot!"

"I know," he said, seizing her hands in his and kissing her knuckles fervently. "But we'll try and think of something. We have to at least try!"

But Amaleigh knew that there was nothing that could be done.

* * *

><p>Major Swift sat at his desk, but instead of holding the letter that had turned his entire world upside-down, he now held a picture of his late father.<p>

"Who am I, Father?" he asked the man in the picture, the man he resembled in so many ways; physically, in skills, and in moral values. "I once thought I knew. I am a man who lives to serve and protect the People of Albion. The King has become a tyrant, yet I still serve him, hoping to serve the People even as I despise what he stands for. Does that make me a traitor in my heart? Is this woman he hopes that I will marry like me in that respect? Did she save those people because she has hope for the future and love of her fellow man?"

His father's image did not respond, of course, but Jack Swift took comfort from the old man's kindly features nonetheless.

"I am not many winters away from fifty years of age, Father," Swift went on after a moment. "The King says she is young. Can a young woman ever be happy with an old soldier like me? On the other hand, would marriage to me not be preferable to a life spent in the dark, damp, and disease-infested dungeons of the Castle?"

Swift then gasped at his sudden realisation. The Castle! King Logan had written that if he refused to marry the woman then she would spend the rest of her life in the Castle Dungeons! That meant that she was likely a woman of high birth, else she would either have been executed, and if not, imprisoned elsewhere. Only people of high rank and import were imprisoned within the Castle Walls.

"Good gods, who is she?"

But he knew that did not matter in the end. What did matter was whether Swift should marry this woman to save her from not only a miserable and quite likely a shortened life, or spare her the fate of living with a man she did not even know and who was undoubtedly of lower birth. He was also middle-aged and had little to offer a woman, especially one so much younger than he. Even if they liked each other, or at best grew to care for each other, would a marriage between them be something she would appreciate or resent?

Marrying someone known to be a traitor would once have been unthinkable to him, but now with King Logan being the feared and despotic tyrant that he was, any traitor was not likely a true traitor. At least not any more than Swift and his own men were. Besides, she had intervened and saved lives. What sort of traitor could she be? He smiled wryly. Not much of a traitor, he suspected. In fact, she was likely just the sort that Logan couldn't wait to be rid of! Therefore, he could be doing her and possibly many other people a great service by saving her from imprisonment.

"Father, I suppose I never needed even a moment to ponder this, did I?" he asked the smiling old man with the large 'gentleman's moustache' that Swift himself had adopted. "I would never force myself upon a woman, and I have no wife, nor have I ever. So, as things stand, I have no wife, no other future prospects of one, and there is a woman who immanently needs me to marry her or else suffer unimaginably. If she dislikes me, so be it; I'll not trouble her. But I cannot allow her to rot in a dungeon."

Swift took a fresh piece of parchment and a quill. He would respond to the King immediately.

He felt as if his father's spirit was beside him as he wrote, and that Jacob Swift approved.

* * *

><p>Logan re-read Swift's reply with a curious mixture of emotions. He was pleased that the Major had accepted his offer and agreed to marry Amaleigh. Amaleigh would not have to suffer in the dungeons, and that cheered Logan. He loved her despite everything, and had hoped that the Major would not allow for such a thing to happen even to a woman he did not know.<p>

But at the same time, a surge of jealousy arose in the young monarch. He frowned and let out a hissing breath of anger. What in the Hells was the matter with him? Why was he suddenly so jealous? He hadn't yet married off his sister, so...

Ah, but he was going to. He had to. He had already given the order. Besides, he wouldn't truly be losing his sister, he would be saving her life, not to mention saving her from the fate of a miserable future with that wretched boy, Elliot.

Hmph... Elliot. What a weak-minded and ridiculous fop! Amaleigh deserved better. Even if she would never care for the Major, he would undoubtedly do better by her than that stupid boy.

Wouldn't he? Logan sighed. He would have to believe that that was true, otherwise he would begin to second-guess himself; and that was not something a King should do. Ever.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree

#3

"Amaleigh, are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am, Elliot!"

"But we were going to wait until we got married before making love!"

"I know, but we don't have time now, Elliot! There's no way out of this, so please, I beg of you, don't allow a man I don't even know be my first!"

Elliot pulled Amaleigh so closely to him that she felt his heart pounding beneath his shirt. The couple had quietly gone to her room after nightfall. Logan tended to keep very late hours, and if he was holding true to his schedule this night, he would be in his study for several more. They stood by her bedside, hesitant yet certain, that joining together in as intimate a way as possible was the right thing to do.

The young Princess clutched desperately to her love's shirt and she kissed him; small pecking kisses that were tentative but urgent. "Oh, Elliot, I could not bear to give my virginity to another!"

"Gods, Amaleigh, I don't want that, either! But what if you...uh...conceive?"

"Then I would always have a part of you with me. No matter what Logan can do to keep us apart, I would have a precious part of you with me to love. And you would know that you are with me in our child, even if we cannot be together."

She knew her words were desperate and could only hope that they made sense to Elliot. Her thoughts were jumbled, but her feelings were consistent despite being driven by fear.

Elliot growled low in his throat and pushed her onto her back with a surge of passion that Amaleigh hadn't known he possessed. Should she be ashamed to plead with him so? To beg him to make love to her? To hope that she would not only give her innocence to the man of her choice, but to also hope to be carrying his child even as Logan was planning to bind her to another? Was it right of her to use her desperation and pleas to appeal to his baser instincts if all else failed?

Elliot's habitually gentle and unassuming nature was vanishing in a haze of heated kisses and frantic gropings as Amaleigh found her skirts ruching up her thighs. His soft hands were frantic with desire as he impatiently searched for her flesh beneath the voluminous undergarments. Botheration! Why did women's clothing have to be so complicated?

"Elliot," she gasped, "see to your own! I'll remove mine."

Any hesitations or doubts that may have been lingering in the hidden recesses of her mind vanished as she wondered when and to whom Logan planned to wed her. She and Elliot loved and desired each other, and they would come together at least this once despite despite Logan; despite everyone and everything.

Elliot flashed her a lopsided grin of embarrassment and climbed off of her. He stood before her window, his handsome figure illuminated by moonlight and the soft light of the torches in the Castle Gardens. He was, without a doubt, an incredibly beautiful boy. His round eager face with his large doe-eyes fixed on her green ones as he began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. His eyelids wisped closed for a moment in shyness as he saw how she gazed at him with adoration and barely restrained curiosity.

He was young and sweet, innocent and eager. And behind him...

Amaleigh's breath hitched. And then she swallowed so thickly that Elliot's hands paused in their movements.

"Amaleigh?"

"Be... behind you," she whispered, fear beginning to take an insidious hold on her that threatened her resolve to love and be loved. "He's here, even now!"

Elliot turned his head and looked out the window. "Oh, gods," he groaned. "Well, that thing could kill anyone's mood."

How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, the large looming form of Logan's statue outside her window? His face was fierce, his arm raised and pointing off in the distance as if giving the order to conquer any and all who would stand in his way. His eyes, even in statue form, held such menace that Amaleigh shuddered. She felt Logan's intense gaze upon her, his judgement upon her, and even his anger. The statue had never troubled her before, but now...

"Elliot, please draw the curtains!"

She hugged herself tightly, but warmth was not to be hers, even when Elliot hastened to obey her. He drew the curtains, but they were not of a fabric thick enough to obscure the forbidding and dour figure of the King. Logan's shadow towered over them still, as frightening and threatening as before.

"Amaleigh, it is only a statue! He's not really here, you know."

"I wish I could believe that," she croaked nervously, her breath wisping over parchment-dry lips. "I can feel him! He knows, Elliot. He knows we are together."

"If he does," Elliot countered, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her to his chest in an embrace meant to comfort her, "then why is he not doing anything about it?"

"I do not know," she said, but perhaps she did. If she and Elliot made love, being parted from him was going to hurt her even more. Is that what Logan wanted, to hurt her as much as possible?

"Have I really hurt him so badly that he would wish such misery upon me?" Amaleigh lay against Elliot's chest, her arms still around herself as he held her. She peered up into his deep brown eyes. She saw that they were misted with the faint beginnings of tears. He knew what she was thinking.

"You do not deserve this, Amaleigh," he whispered, brushing a feather-light kiss across her forehead. "But I fear that he does not wish you misery so much as he does me."

"What?"

"Surely you know how much he despises me!" Elliot said, his voice rising with passionate anger. "Amaleigh, he has always been polite to me, but have you never noticed how cold his so-called civility is? He has never said a word to me that he did not feel compelled to. He does not think that I am good enough for you; he said as much in the Throne Room."

"He hates us both."

"No, just me. He loves you, at least as much as a man like him can love," he replied softly. He pulled back and clasped her hands, placing them over his heart. "I love you with all the love I have, but Logan... I don't think he knows what love is."

"Did he ever?" She knew, however, that he did, at least in the past. He had been a doting brother to her all her life. He had played with her even when he was too old to enjoy the games she loved. He had read her favourite stories to her over and over. He had helped her in her studies and always protected her from the children who teased or bullied her when she went outside to play. In short, he was the perfect protective and doting older brother.

For the last two years, however, she had avoided and alienated him. She had seen how he changed; how he had become driven and determined about something he would reveal to no-one. He trained more diligently than ever and was incredibly powerful and strong, but his frame was disconcertingly lean. His eyes saw everything, but they were also sunken and tired. His once tanned and smooth face was now rugged, unnaturally pale, lined, and scarred.

_Once, she had asked him about his scars, reaching up to trace one in concern. His hand shot out lightning quick and stopped her, gripping her wrist so fiercely that she cried out in pain._

_"Never, ever, touch my scars or ask about them again! You would do well to never know anything about them! Leave me, Amaleigh, and hope that you never discover the answers to the questions you have."_

"He wasn't always as he is now, Elliot," she continued, relaxing her arms and reaching for his hands. "He went away several years ago on one of his voyages and when he returned he was no longer the Logan we knew. Everything changed."

"Everything except our love."

She smiled wanly. "Yes, everything except our love."

Perhaps that needn't have been the case. If she had been a better sister to him, if she had stood by him, spoken with him, or even simply made herself available for comfort or moral support, none of this dreadful business would have happened. Maybe...

But it no longer mattered. Logan was who he was now, and things between them would never be as they once were. He had granted her the favour she had begged of him, and she would have to pay the price.

For now, however, she had her love with her, and if he claimed her innocence first then no matter who she married, she would be able to hold onto Elliot in her heart, at least.

Elliot stood and resumed working on the buttons of his shirt. Amaleigh took this as a cue to begin on her own clothing. After all, how much time did they have? They could have all night, or they might only have a few precious minutes.

His handsome young body was pale, smooth, and completely free of scars or markings of any kind. He reminded her at that moment of a mannequin, not overly or under-muscled, bearing no marks, tattoos, or even body hair. He stood before her nervously, his mouth tight and his fists clenching and unclenching. Her eyes strayed to the area she could no longer help but want to see the most; his manhood.

For a moment Amaleigh had the strangest thought; that he was so young and so unremarkably perfect as to be... unformed. She frowned. Unformed? What a ridiculous notion! Of course he was formed! He was beautiful and perfect and obviously... ready. She had only ever seen drawings, and only a few at that, in books. The dark thatch of hair that surrounded the fleshy root was framing a pale rod of flesh that was upright and pointing at her.

She stifled a giggle as Elliot brought his hands down to cover himself. "What is so funny?" he demanded, but not angrily. He knew she was a virgin and that she often laughed or giggled when she was embarrassed.

"Oh, Elliot, I am just nervous! You are so handsome, but that part of you is very strange to me!" It was pale, but now there was red staining it, and the very top was helmet-shaped. It was as smooth as the rest of him, but also firm. That was a good thing, she knew; the firmness. That had to mean he desired her!

He blushed. "Perhaps I should have told you before, Amaleigh, but I didn't want to upset you. Now, however, I think you should know something."

"Know what?"

"That you do not need to be nervous. You are a virgin, but I am not. I know what to do."

Amaleigh gasped so violently that she almost choked. "But... that's not possible!" Sadness and the venomous sting of betrayal began to worm its insidious way into her heart; the heart Elliot had convinced her she still had. "You promised me that we would both be virgins together!"

"I know, Amaleigh, but I am a man, and I found out that I am supposed to... well..."

Elliot paused and cast his eyes to the floor, plainly embarrassed and ashamed.

"What?" she challenged. "What are you supposed to do?"

"I... ah... I am supposed to learn how to be with a woman so that the woman I marry has a man who is experienced enough to teach her."

Oh, damn men and damn such rules; it wasn't fair! But Amaleigh had to admit to herself that she had heard the same thing. Still, she thought that their mutual promise would be more powerful and meaningful than common practices. She had believed that they would learn everything together; that their love and their bodies would never be tainted by the touch of another's, just as they had agreed.

"Amaleigh?" He looked up at her now, his large eyes filled with guilty apprehension. His hands still covered his sex.

"I am very disappointed in you, Elliot," she said honestly, "but we don't have time to be made unhappy by what cannot be undone." She stood and allowed her open blouse to drop to the floor. No, she would not allow his betrayal of their vow, for that was what it was, to ruin this night for her; for both of them.

She had already seen how lovely and perfect he was; would he see her as such? As her blouse fluttered to the floor, apprehension crept over her and her confidence wavered, but only for an instant. The expression of pleased amazement on his face made her feel better at once. She saw his gaze fix with wide-eyed appreciation on her ample breasts and she hurried to push her skirt and petticoats to the floor. As she toed off her shoes Elliot strode to her and boldly pulled her into his arms.

"Gods, you are beautiful!"

Her softness melded into his hardness and her own nervousness was somewhat allayed. He found her beautiful! Perhaps, too, the fact that he was experienced would be a good thing. After all, Amaleigh did not know what to do or expect, but because Elliot did, they would not fumble about and make their first time together foolish or embarrassing.

Elliot gently pushed her back until she tumbled onto the bed. She quickly scooted to the centre and opened her arms in welcome. He grinned and climbed atop her and straddled her thighs.

"Are you all right?" he asked her. "Can we go on?"

"I think so," she panted softly. She suddenly realised, well and truly, that there was no turning back. Her innocence would soon be gone. It would forever be Elliot's and...

"Oh!" she squeaked. Her thoughts were interrupted as his hands covered her breasts and began to fondle them. His cool hands felt so good on her tender flesh!

"So nice, so large," he gasped. "I've wanted to do this for ages!" His large chocolate eyes twinkled down at her in the moonlight and he grinned. "How does this feel, Amaleigh?"

He began to run his palms over her nipples until they hardened. Amaleigh gasped sharply. His hands were soft but sure as they teased her. Her nipples were now so hard that they ached, but the aching was not unpleasant. In fact, it was quite pleasant!

"I like it, Elliot!"

"And how about this?"

He bent down and pressed his face between her breasts, kissing a trail around one, then the other. Her mouth opened and closed as she alternated between panting and sighing. His soft mouth left no part of her bosom untouched or unexplored.

Her fingers twined in his russet brown hair nervously but with barely restrained excitement at the same time. He moved his mouth upwards and drew a nipple between his lips to lightly nip it. Amaleigh gasped loudly as a shock of molten desire shot between her thighs and moistened her maiden flesh.

"Oh, Elliot!"

"You like this?" he teased, and she felt one hand snake down between her legs.

"Yes, but..." She clamped her legs tightly closed reflexively. "Ah... I'm not ready to be touched there just yet, my love."

He drew back with a look of disappointment, but nodded. "You're right, Amaleigh. I'm just so eager that I guess I'm rushing you. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for!" she said hastily. She suddenly feared that he would be unhappy if she did not acquiesce to what he wanted of her. "Just remember that this is my first time, Elliot."

"Oh, yes," he said. "I almost forgot." He smiled sheepishly. "Amaleigh, it's just that you are so beautiful and I've wanted you for so long, I think that I am forgetting myself! You need me to go more slowly, don't you?"

Amaleigh nodded but hastened to assure him that he did not need to take too much time. Did men become impatient if a woman needed more time than they did? She wrapped her arms around his neck and rained kisses across his lips, cheeks, and throat. He uttered sounds of pleasure as she began to also tentatively run her hands along his back and down to his hips.

She centred her head on her pillow and took a deep breath. "I think I'm ready now, Elliot," she lied. She had been so ready earlier, and so certain! Why was she now feeling hesitant?

The colossal and foreboding shadow of her brother's statue outside the window caught her eye and she shuddered with helpless frustration. This was Logan's fault! She would not be hesitating for a moment if it were not for his cruelty and disdain for her feelings!

Elliot gently inserted a knee between her thighs and parted them. "I will need you to open your legs," he said softly.

"I... I know," she said, widening them and hoping he did not see her deep blush. Now he would be able to see her most intimate flesh! No-one, not even she, had ever seen herself as completely as he was about to.

He positioned the head of his rod between her moist folds and Amaleigh sucked in a deep breath. The touch was so intimate and so unlike anything she had ever expected that she wasn't sure what she was feeling. She hadn't even had a chance to touch him, to study him, or to accustom herself to his body, much less her own. But the warmth that filled her belly and made her breasts feel extremely heavy left no doubt as to her genuine arousal.

Elliot pressed his forehead against hers. "Are you ready, dearest?"

"Yes, Elliot."

"It will hurt a bit, but then you'll be better and it will feel wonderful."

"All right, Elliot; I trust you. Just... claim me. Love me and make me yours!"

What she did not say was that she wished that they had time to touch each other, caress each other, look into each others' eyes and simply be together first. But they likely did not have time for such luxuries. What if they had no other opportunity, ever?

"Oh, bloody hell!"

The strange appendage that was poised to take her virginity suddenly softened, and when Elliot prodded at her moist entrance insistently it refused to co-operate.

"What is it?" Amaleigh waited, legs spread, courage mounted, and hoping to have him claim her innocence before another ever could.

"I...it's...it's that thing! That damned statue of your brother!"

"But as you said," she interjected desperately, "he is not here!"

"Tell that to another part of me," he sighed dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Amaleigh."

He pulled back and lay beside her. "Just give me a few minutes, all right?"

She nodded, but her eyes drifted upward to see the shadow of Logan's outstretched arm. The arm of command and control. Something about even a likeness of Logan was enough to render Elliot unable or unwilling to take her; she did not know precisely what, but she knew it was true nonetheless.

And she knew that Elliot would not be claiming her tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree

#4

When Amaleigh awakened she was not surprised that she was alone. Elliot would never have dared remain, for to do so would certainly invoke Logan's wrath. Still, she wished that he had woken her before leaving. His absence only made her heart ache more than it had the previous night.

Her virginity was still intact and her love was gone. When would they ever find another opportunity to try again? She had to give her innocence to Elliot before Logan married her off to goodness knows who!

A soft knock sounded at the door. "Princess Amaleigh?"

Amaleigh sat up and turned to the door. The voice was that of a woman and it was not familiar.

"Yes?" she called.

"My name is Mrs. Prosser. The King has sent me. I am to examine you and then bathe you."

The door opened and a middle-aged woman entered. "I was given very specific instructions, Princess. The King has ordered that today you are to be married and I am to verify your chastity."

Amaleigh felt her chest constrict. "I beg your pardon?"

The woman had the decency to lower her eyes. "It seems that the King wants to know if you are marrying in innocence or lack of it."

"Does it matter?"

"I do not believe so. He has readied several maids to dress you after you and I are done with my examination and your bath."

What followed were the longest and most embarrassing minutes of Amaleigh's life. The examination of a prospective bride was not an exact science, so there were bold questions besides the baring of her body to a complete stranger.

Did her breasts ache? Did she ever experience nausea in the morning? Was her appetite healthy? Did her 'womanly area' ever swell or change colour? And then she was bluntly asked if she had ever been 'intimate' with a man.

Amaleigh answered every question truthfully, including the last, as the woman gently felt her breasts, belly, and then finally her maiden flesh. The Princess squeezed her eyes tightly closed as the woman inserted her finger inside her and felt about. This last was too much and the young woman felt as if she would die from shame.

"I am sorry, Princess," Mrs. Prosser said sympathetically as she withdrew her finger. "This was all necessary. From what I can conclude, you are indeed a virgin."

Amaleigh swallowed and nodded, her eyes leaking tears of humiliation.

"I am truly sorry," the woman repeated gently, pulling the bed-sheet over Amaleigh. "I know you are embarrassed, and I think that I need only watch over you as you bathe."

"Th... thank you."

Amaleigh bathed listlessly but diligently forced herself to cease crying. What was the point of showing her sorrow? Tears would only please Logan as he likely hoped that this unwelcome surprise would both humiliate and devastate her.

Well, he had succeeded. Today she would be married. Today she would be parted from Elliot, perhaps forever.

* * *

><p>"This will be most... unusual, Your Majesty," Major Jack Swift said. He was, as instructed, in his full dress uniform. "My bride and I will not see each other?"<p>

Logan studied the Major across the table in his private office. "Yes, but no. She will not see you but you will know what she looks like. She is my sister, the Princess Amaleigh, whose portrait you have undoubtedly seen on your way to this room."

"I... I have, indeed, Sire. She is quite beautiful." Of course he ached to ask the King why he was the one chosen to marry the Princess, but he did not dare. It was obvious that Princess Amaleigh had been the 'traitor' who had intervened to save lives, but why would she be denied seeing him? Surely she had the right to lay her eyes upon the man she was to be bound to in matrimony.

"Yes, she is," Logan said placidly, "and I have also found her to be properly suitable in an area of concern that most men have regarding their prospective brides. I have had a midwife examine her and ensure that she is untainted by the touch of any man. She is indeed a virgin, Major, so if that adds to her desirability to you, all the better."

In truth, Jack Swift did not care if the Princess was a virgin or not. Well, that was not entirely true. Since she was marrying him under duress, he would rather not be the man to take her innocence. However, he realised, if the Princess did not want him to touch her, he would not; it was that simple. He would never force himself upon a woman, marriage or no.

"It does not trouble me either way, Your Majesty."

"Well, it was a concern of mine. Because she has disappointed me beyond measure, I will not allow her to see you; not at this time. Her veil will completely obscure her view, and during the Ceremony it is not necessary to use names. She will discover who you are in time."

Swift shifted uncomfortably. "Am I to be a punishment to her, Sire?"

Logan's eyes darkened as they bored into Swift's. "She is my sister, and contrary to popular belief I am not heartless. I chose you for your virtues and strength of character. I have no doubt that you will treat her well and live up to every promise and virtue a husband should. My other reasons are my own and not your concern or hers."

Swift nodded. "I see." He did not, entirely, as likely there were other men who would also be suitable husbands for the Princess, but he could not deny that his character and exemplary service in the Royal Army was a splendid recommendation. However, his social rank and hers, not to mention their ages, were vastly different!

There was a small noise from behind the office door but Logan did not acknowledge it, so, to follow suit, neither did Swift.

"I know that you are concerned about the difference in your ages," the King said smoothly, obviously reading the concern on the Major's face, "but a young wife is desirable to any man. How old are you?"

Jack Swift swallowed audibly. Surely the King knew the answer to that as his file was before him on the table at this very moment!

"I am forty-seven years of age, Your Majesty."

"Splendid. Amaleigh needs maturity in her husband. Please be patient with her. She will likely behave as a spoiled child at first, but you needn't concern yourself with that now. You will not be cohabiting with her just yet."

The King rose and when Swift rose also, Logan waved his hand.

"Remain seated. I shall return shortly."

Logan then left the room and closed the door behind him. To his embarrassment, Swift could hear everything that was spoken just outside.

"Logan, you are marrying me to a man who is so old? I... I cannot have a man so old touch me! The very thought is vile!"

"You will do as you must as a wife," the King retorted firmly. "You brought this upon yourself, dear sister, and now you will see it through. I assure you that he is a good man and will make a splendid husband for you."

"Who... who is he?"

"You shall not know that just yet. You will marry him and when I decide the time is right I will send you to him. But do not think to violate your vows with that boy or any man! You will uphold the virtues of a wife and not sully yourself with..."

"Of course I won't!" the Princess said, clearly shocked and embarrassed.

Jack Swift winced. He felt his composure slipping. He felt sorry for the young woman. What was she, just over twenty? Just under? Of course he would be repugnant to her! Jack stared down at his hands, studying the callouses and scars. He was not only quite old in comparison to her, but his body was weathered, tried, and scarred. How could a beautiful young woman ever find him anything less than revolting?

He was considered rather handsome and dashing by many women, but not ones as young as the Princess Amaleigh. He sighed. Well, at least he was saving her from a life in the Dungeons. That was a thought he could cling to; that and the fact that he would refrain from touching her whenever possible.

"Logan, I beg you to reconsider! Elliot is of the nobility, and..."

"Are you going back on your word? Shall I reverse my decision and have the villagers and that brat executed?"

Silence. Then, "No, Logan. Forgive me. I am just... nervous."

"Very well. I shall marry him to you immediately and soon enough you shall meet him. Take the time apart from him to become accustomed to the idea of being without that useless boy and in growing up, Amaleigh. You will now need to learn to be a proper grown woman and behave as one. No more childish games and sneaking about with unsuitable youths. You are fortunate that you were discovered to be a virgin. If you had not been, your desirability would have been greatly reduced and I may have changed my mind on who I would have married you to."

"So... my virtue means something to you?" The Princess sounded surprised and awed.

The King's voice gentled. "Of course it does, dear Amaleigh. You needn't consider the age of the man I have selected for you to be a punishment. He is one of the finest and most upstanding men in Albion. He is learned, cultured, and highly skilled in his career. His character is exemplary and he will make you a splendid husband. I hope you will make the best of the situation and allow yourself to be happy someday, Amaleigh."

"But Logan, how can I help not wanting to be touched by a man so much older than I? He will, because I am his wife, have the right to... possess me! The very thought is enough to make me ill!"

The King sighed in renewed irritation. "Grow up, sister, and do it soon. I tire of your childishness. Straighten your spine, take your vows to heart, and do not make a spectacle of yourself! I expect you to behave as a proper lady before him and not the traitorous and petulant child you have already shown yourself to be!"

Jack Swift felt his heart clench and his stomach knot. Despite what the King told his sister, he knew that he had indeed been selected, at least in part, to punish her. King Logan wanted her to mature, perhaps, but he clearly also wanted her to be unhappy and suffer for speaking out against him. Stripping his sister away from a young man she clearly preferred and marrying her to an old soldier instead would be quite in keeping with Logan's character.

Swift sighed softly in resignation but staunchly refused to allow his eyes to mist with shame and humiliation. He would do what he came to do; marry the Princess. He would continue with his military duties until she would be sent to him, and then, well, he truthfully did not know. There was nothing to be done now but wait. There was no tactical strategy he knew of that would help him or the Princess now.

* * *

><p>"You, Sir Walter Beck, and you, Secretary Willoughby, will withhold the identity of the Princess' husband from her and all others until I deem otherwise, do you understand?"<p>

Amaleigh could only see vague shadows through her thick and starched white veil. She heard the men affirm their understanding and then Logan took her arm and guided her to the side of the man she was to marry. A shadow, he was. A straight and solid shadow that was not too tall, nor too short. In fact, from what she could discern, he had an ideal figure and posture. He did not move or acknowledge her, so she turned her head forward.

Logan took her hand and placed it in the warm hand of the shadowy man she was to marry. Both of them held their hands rigid, careful to not press or wrap around the other's.

Trembling, but determined to keep her composure, Amaleigh listened to Logan drone on about the institution of marriage and what was expected from its participants. She started when she heard him then directly address her bridegroom.

"Will you take, in the bonds of matrimony, this woman as your wife?"

"Yes, I will, Your Majesty," a soft and slightly rough, but undoubtedly cultured voice replied.

"Will you honour and respect her, and care for her in sickness and in health, through good times and difficult times?"

"I will."

"Will you place her welfare above your own, provide for her to the best of your ability, and be faithful to her for as long as you shall live?"

"I will."

Amaleigh was taken aback by how sincere the man was. He did not even know her, but he made each promise with a conviction that threatened to shake any resolve she harboured to hate him. Perhaps Logan was right; this man was of exemplary character and highly honourable. Still, he was not her Elliot! No matter how good this man may be or how highly regarded, he was not the right man for her!

"Princess Amaleigh, will you take, in the bonds of matrimony, this man as your husband?"

She hesitated as she felt her entire body erupt in goose-flesh and violent shudders. The moment she would utter such a promise all hope for marrying Elliot may be gone forever. How would she ever be able to escape marriage?

She heard Logan growl in annoyance and she quickly drew in a breath. To her surprise, her bridegroom folded his hand over hers in a gesture that was clearly meant to be reassuring. A sense of kindness, sympathy, and warmth washed over her from him and she could not help but be grateful.

"Yes, I will," she said, her voice breaking, but only a little. She was determined to be strong and see this through. Perhaps, in the end, good fortune, or perhaps the gods, would reunite her with Elliot despite Logan's doings.

She affirmed the remaining promises with a steady voice. The Secretary handed her a golden wedding ring and she heard her bridegroom reach into his coat pocket and draw out one he had apparently brought with him.

"Each of you place the ring your on the other's finger as a sign of fealty and to seal your bond of marriage."

Amaleigh slipped the ring on the man's finger and heard the softest of whispers in response. "I thank you," he said.

She was stunned. Why would he thank her? He had to know that she did not want him. Perhaps he was gratified that she was accepting him, or perhaps he did not want this marriage any more than she did. Perhaps he, too, was paying a price for something he had done to offend Logan.

"I thank you, as well," she replied, as she accepted the ring he gently slid onto her finger. She could barely see her hand as he placed the ring, but when she raised it closer to her face she saw that it was unique. It was not one of the common bands sold all over Albion, even for the wealthy class; it had been made with care and was better than the finest rings she had ever seen. Instead of yellow gold, it was platinum, and the diamond was expertly cut and had a deep blue sapphire on either side. It was positively exquisite. Why had he given her such a valuable ring? Had it been his mother's or grandmother's? He had gifted her with an extremely valuable and personal item, and despite the situation, she could not help but feel humbled and honoured.

Regardless, he was taking this marriage seriously. Suddenly, she realised that she was, too. She had made the same vows he had. For better or worse, they were united. At least until Logan decreed it so.

"As King of Albion, I bind you together as man and wife."

It was done. Even though there was no kiss due to her veil, Amaleigh felt as though it may as well have been her funeral shroud. It did not offer her protection from the kiss of a stranger, but served as a cerecloth shroud to the living-dead woman concealed beneath it.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree

#5

"Walter, do you know where Elliot is?" Amaleigh nervously asked her mentor and surrogate grandfather.

"Hush! You don't want Logan to hear you, do you?" The old soldier took her arm and pulled her aside. "You've just been married and surely you know all eyes are on you."

"I... I know," the young woman replied, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "I don't even know who I'm married to, Walter! You are forbidden to tell me and I'm pretty sure that whoever he is he is no longer present. And even now I can't see Elliot? Not even for a moment? Not even to... to say good-bye?"

Walter's gruff visage softened as he scanned the library. Logan's office door was not far away and neither knew if the King was inside or not.

"Amaleigh, I cannot tell you the identity of your husband, but I can tell you that I doubt you'll see your young man any time soon. I heard the Secretary speaking to your brother about him, and... well, it didn't sound good."

Amaleigh's heart fluttered anxiously in her chest. Logan had promised to spare him!

"But he is all right, is he not?" The words rushed past her suddenly dry lips and a wave of nausea passed over her trembling frame. Her corset restricted her breathing and her anxiety was only making matters worse.

"Be easy, Amaleigh," Walter said hastily to reassure her. "The lad is fine. As far as I know, Logan has stripped him of his house and lands, but he himself is safe enough."

"But where will he go?" The words sounded dully in her own ears as Amaleigh asked the question. The colours in the room had suddenly lost their vibrancy and an odd buzzing droned inside her head. She attempted to take a restorative breath but her tight gown and corset refused to give. The dulled colours slipped away and morphed into a wash of grey and white.

"Probably to Bowerstone," Walter said, his voice sounding as if it was far away.

Amaleigh abruptly was pulled to the massive man's chest. "Are you all right?" Before she could respond, a blur of purple and gold swam into her view.

"Amaleigh! Gods, man, is she ill?"

_"Beloved, everything will be all right! I will wait for you. Flee as soon as you can and we'll manage to find each other!" _

_They were in the Garden in their favourite spot, but it was not as wonderful as it usually was. How could this be happening and how could she be here? Logan had just married her mere minutes ago to a strange man! Now she was suddenly and inexplicably with Elliot? _

_Oh, but Elliot was more beautiful than ever! He was transparent and surrounded by an aura of white light. His handsome form was enhanced and unworldly. But was this lovely visage of him a phantasm; an illusion to taunt her, or was he real? Was any of this real?_

_The Princess could no longer bring herself to care or ask herself any more questions. She rushed forward and into arms that felt solid enough; it had to be him! He embraced her tenderly and his hand held her head to his chest while his soft lips kissed her forehead. Gasping in relief, she clung to him as if to a lifeline._

_"It is you!" she breathed in joy. "But how are you here? Can you not take me with you and away from this awful place? Please, don't let a stranger claim me as his own!"_

_"Amaleigh, I love you, but I cannot stay! I came to tell you that you must remember us and our love. I must..."_

_The lovely scene and the embrace suddenly began to dissipate . Its solidity faded as fog in sunlight and she felt herself pitch forward awkwardly, yet she did not land upon the soft green grass. Something held her up, suspending her as if she were a kitten held safely and securely in its mother's grip._

"Amaleigh? Can you hear me?"

Logan.

Her perspiring palms traced smears over his gleaming chest plate as she struggled to discern where she was. Blast it, she was not with Elliot in the Garden at all! She had swooned and now was in her brother's arms. It wasn't fair! She only had been away from her misery for moments and now her bliss was snatched from her, and once again by Logan.

"I... I can hear you, Logan," she muttered, feebly pushing at his chest. She did not want him touching her. He was the reason her life and dreams had been utterly crushed.

He did not release her. "Amaleigh, please, I don't want you to be ill. Do you need the physician?" His expression betrayed genuine concern, but her anger and embarrassment would not be assuaged.

"I cannot breathe in this horrid gown! The stays hurt me and I can scarcely draw breath." Her green eyes met his deep brown ones and she silently issued a challenge to him. "You have taken everything worth living for from me! What is left? Why not just release me into Bowerstone?"

She struggled against his embrace again but once more he refused to allow her to escape. They were seated on the floor of the library and Walter stood back from them silently. Logan held her cradled against his chest and across his lap.

"You are too weak to stand, Amaleigh," he retorted, but not with the anger she expected. "Just relax for a few minutes."

She sighed irritably but nodded.

"Now, what is this nonsense about Bowerstone? Are you fully conscious?"

"I am. I no longer wish to live here, Logan." She fixed her gaze on the chest-plate she had inadvertently smeared with her fingerprints. The smudges held a fascination for her; they were like her life now, indistinct and muddled. A mess of a pattern, if it could be considered a pattern at all. She traced her index finger in one and mussed it further.

"I am sure that wherever my new husband is that he is not here. Am I right?"

Logan caught her chin and lifted it to force her to look into his face. The absence of his gloves was a surprise to her. She rarely saw him without them. Why wasn't he wearing them? Not that she really cared; she simply did not want him touching her.

Just as she did not want the strange man who was now her husband to touch her.

Ever.

Logan's grip tightened when he felt her resistance. "You are correct. He is not here, but neither is he in Bowerstone." His eyes bored into hers with a renewed intensity that was unnerving. "What do you think you will do away from here, Amaleigh? You don't know how to live among the populace! You have no skills and no money apart from what I would give you. Either you remain here for the time being or I shall send you to your husband. If you choose the latter, I'll send you off to him with a generous dowry."

"How long would you allow me to stay here? And why is he gone? Where is he?"

She was secretly relieved that Logan apparently did not expect her to lay with her unknown husband immediately. Perhaps she could find a way to escape! Perhaps the apparition of Elliot while she was unconscious was a sign that she could indeed escape the Palace and find her way to him.

Logan smiled gently and caressed her cheek softly with the knuckles of one hand. "My dear Amaleigh, I did not know you cared about your husband's whereabouts. You may stay here for perhaps a fortnight or two. That should be sufficient time for you to prepare yourself for married life. However, if you would prefer to get on with your new life at once, I can arrange for you to meet him forthwith."

"May I accompany her, Your Majesty?" Walter asked, and then cleared his throat nervously. "Ah... that is if she wishes to depart."

"Of course," Logan replied. "I want my sister to be safe at all times." He slid his hand behind her neck and held her head firmly and close to his. Their breaths mingled and he held her gaze. "What shall it be, Amaleigh? Do you wish to remain here, or do you wish to depart at once?"

"I have a choice in this?" she whispered wonderingly. Her entire life had so quickly changed from a life filled with choices to one without any at all!

Her brother sighed. "Yes, you have a choice in this. I realise that you are quite upset and disturbed. I know that you are not pleased to be in my presence, either, so you may depart if that would please you."

"And live where?"

"Your husband has a respectable estate in Millfields, though he spends little time there. There are several houses available for purchase that are better, however. I can purchase one for you as a gift and send Jasper along to refurbish and decorate it as you please."

"May I... keep Jasper?"

Logan smiled once more and seemed pleased that she was not arguing with him.

"You may; he has been your butler your entire life, has he not? Besides, his presence may aid you in adjusting to your new life."

"You mean my new hell," she whispered, then immediately regretted her words.

Logan's lips thinned into a white line.

"It was of your own doing, Amaleigh. You made your own bed, as the saying goes; now you must lay in it."

Amaleigh squeezed her eyes closed and shuddered.

* * *

><p>For the next several weeks Amaleigh busied herself with redecorating the house Logan had bought for her. It was situated next to the Hero of Skill, Reaver's, home, but the tyrannical industrialist who held a choke-hold over the city of Bowerstone was far enough away that he could scarcely even be considered a neighbour.<p>

Jasper purchased all the sorts of furnishings that Amaleigh liked. Every chair, table, shelf, book-stand, and bed was of pure oak. The kitchen stove and sink were of the highest quality. There were two bedrooms, and Amaleigh had instructed Jasper to furnish one fitting for a husband and wife, and have another with two separate beds and wardrobes. The living space was spacious and exquisite. Antique sets of polished armour adorned the room as well as a brass telescope, a hat-stand, a globe, and various fine sculptures. The paintings were from Albion's most famous artists.

There were several portraits in the house that Logan had commissioned and their placement was the only thing that Logan mandated. His own hung in the room that served as the library, and alongside it was one of herself, one of Walter, and one of Major Jackson Edward Hardwicke Swift. Swift was one of Albion's current military heroes and his legendary fighting and leadership skills were well known to the populace. Logan apparently wanted her to be surrounded by figures of prominent people and heroes. Did he think she would feel safer and more at ease?

She would certainly feel more at ease if she were allowed to sleep in the second bedroom. Perhaps her husband would take the Master bedroom and she could sleep alone! The young woman sighed as she twirled her wedding band. That wouldn't be likely. She was considered quite attractive and although she was inexperienced in the customs of the marriage bed she was not entirely ignorant. Besides, men reputedly wanted to claim their brides as soon as possible, not to mention that they were creatures of physical passion. She had even heard that affection or love was not necessary for them to have the constant desire to sate themselves.

Amaleigh was able to suppress a shudder as she reflected on how pleased her husband would be that she had moved almost all of his belongings to this larger and more expensive house. Jasper had arranged all of his books by category and then alphabetically. He had also meticulously placed most of his clothing in the wardrobe in the Master bedroom and some in the second bedroom. Logan must have ordered the staff at her husband's manor to cooperate, for all was done with speed and perfection.

If her husband would be pleased, then perhaps their marriage could be off to a good start.

"I won't cry over spilt milk, either," she whispered fiercely. "If the worst happens and I am never to be with Elliot, then I may as well try to begin this marriage peaceably."

* * *

><p>The following day Jasper approached Amaleigh as she was reading and cleared his throat.<p>

"Miss Amaleigh?"

She closed the book and set it aside. "Yes, Jasper?"

"It seems that the moment has arrived for you to meet your husband. He is waiting for you in the foyer." Jasper bowed and left the room.

A chill raced down Amaleigh's spine and her eyes unconsciously flicked to the portraits that lined the wall. Her gaze rested on Logan's face.

"So, today is the day, Logan? You could have at least sent me a letter!"

A mixture of fear, dread, and relief flooded her. She would at last find out who she was married to and the waiting would be over. That, at least, would be a good thing.

Amaleigh's legs felt leaden while her heart thudded furiously in her breast. Slowly she entered the foyer. The man waiting for her had his back to her, but the cloak he wore did not conceal his military attire. It was obvious from his breeches and boots that he was of the Old Guard and not one of Logan's newer soldiers; the ones who wore purple and gold.

He was gazing intently into the living room and did not hear her approach.

"Sir?" she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

The man turned to face her. She knew that face! It was Major Swift. He was her husband? He was the man she had married?

He bowed stiffly and formally and when he straightened and looked into her eyes his gaze was neither warm nor welcoming.

"Princess Amaleigh," he said, "I have come to extend my greetings. It is by the King's command that I do so."

"I... I see," Amaleigh stammered, unconsciously wringing her hands. "Welcome, Sir, to our home."

Swift raised a brow in query. "Home?" His tone was cool and laced with disbelief.

Perhaps he did not know that this house was theirs, Amaleigh thought. Perhaps he believed she was only staying there temporarily. She couldn't help but see how handsome and fit he looked, and intelligence and good breeding practically oozed from him. Logan had been true to his word. He had married her to a worthy man; significantly older, but extremely worthy. However, his cold demeanour puzzled her.

"Why, yes!" she replied hastily. "Logan bought this house for us and I had it decorated while waiting for you. I even had my butler, Jasper, work with your man to bring most of your things here. This is our home, Major."

The Major closed his eyes for a long moment and sighed. When he opened his eyes again his face registered disappointment and barely concealed anger.

"My own estate is not to your liking, Madam?"

"I... I haven't seen it."

Botheration! She had never considered even inquiring about his house! She had simply assumed that like Logan and herself he would prefer the most expensive house available in Millfields.

"You haven't seen it," he said flatly. "Well, Madam, let me tell you that my grandfather built the Swift Estate. It is a house that lacks neither quality nor taste. The fact that you have decided, without even seeing it or consulting me, that the place is not fit for you tells me much about you."

Acute embarrassment flooded Amaleigh and her face flushed with shame. She moved toward him with a hand outstretched, hoping to assure him that she had intended no such insult.

Swift stepped back from her and raised his hands, indicating that he did not want her to touch him.

"Marriage or not, I will not tolerate my things being moved from my own home," he said with an obvious effort at controlling his anger. "I shall send my man at once to begin to retrieve my items."

"But what about this house?"

The Major looked her up and down and then sighed again, this time in obvious resignation.

"Madam, you have the house you desire and the décor you desire, but it is not mine. It is yours to do with as you see fit. I shall not reside here."

"But we are married, and how was I to know which house was yours? I didn't even know who you were until now!"

Amaleigh had no idea why she was suddenly so eager to win this man's good opinion, but she found herself desiring it all the same.

"That is true," the Major conceded, "however, besides not waiting to consult me about our living arrangements, you made it quite clear the day we were married that you did not want an old man such as myself as your husband. Well, I shall happily oblige you as best I can. You needn't be disgusted by my person or my presence. Since the very thought of being married to me likely makes you ill, I shall depart at once. I merely stopped by to greet you and to offer my services to you, for regardless of our marital status, you are the Princess of Albion."

His dark eyes seemed to darken even more as he opened the front door. "Rest your mind, Princess, for I shall not trouble you."

Swift bowed quickly and then left the house.

The sound of the door closing behind him concealed the sob that escaped Amaleigh's throat.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree

#6

It was with tremendous humiliation that Amaleigh watched the Major's butler, Fletcher, order and direct the footmen in the removal of the Major's belongings from the house. She sat in the corner of the library and tried to appear unconcerned as she hid her face behind an upraised book, but she was certain that her flushed face and slouched posture did not go unnoticed.

How could Swift embarrass her so? Surely he realised that the gossip of what transpired between them this morning would be all over Millfields, not to mention Bowerstone, by nightfall! What an odious and insensitive man!

"Amaleigh?"

The book slipped from her shaking hands as she started violently.

Walter knelt before her. "Are you all right?" His careworn face was sympathetic and he enclosed one of her small hands in his enormous one.

"I have never been so insulted and mortified in my life!" she whispered, glancing about to be certain that nobody heard them.

"Insulted? Mortified?" Walter's face registered surprise. "Amaleigh, you do realise that you are not the one who was wronged here; Swift was!"

"How can you say such a thing?" The Princess felt her colour rise even more. "He was awful to me! He didn't even give me a chance to explain that I did not mean to insult him!"

Walter's expression softened but his grasp on her hand tightened. "Amaleigh, listen to me. I've known Jack Swift for over twenty years. He's the finest man I know." He stared into her eyes intently. "He's probably also the finest man in Albion and you are damned lucky to have him as your husband! Logan could have chosen from any number of buffoons, carousers, rakes, or just plain idiots to marry you to, but he didn't. He chose Swift."

"I'm not as lucky as you say!" Amaleigh retorted, irritated that she couldn't keep her tone even rather than petulant. "He was horrid to me!"

"He was shamed and denigrated by you, Amaleigh."

At the look of surprise that flicked across her features, Walter continued.

"He has a very fine estate. It is the pride of his family, and today he discovers that the woman he married did not even consider it worthy of her appraisal."

"But, I..."

"And then he also finds out that she has taken his personal items, including precious family heirlooms, and removed them; all without even asking him! He came here to greet you and probably to introduce himself, but was overwhelmed with the situation and did not know what to do other than to remove himself."

"He could have asked me!"

Walter sighed. "Amaleigh, will you please listen? He is a man who is a gentleman, an officer, and a servant to the Crown. He has never been married, as he has spent his entire life in service. Now, as a man who is more than twice your age, he... ah..." Walter stopped, his own face colouring.

Amaleigh's curiosity flared, but her annoyance at the insinuations Walter was making also kept her feeling cross.

"He what, Walter? Tell me!"

The gruff old man covered her other hand and squeezed gently. "Amaleigh, to be perfectly blunt, you behaved just as he feared you would."

"And that is?"

"As a spoiled child." The moment the words passed his lips Walter stood and stared down at her in resignation, ready for whatever verbal barrage she would hurl his way.

It was not to come, however. Amaleigh found herself stunned by all her mentor had said. Was he right? Was she truly the one at fault? Now that she was pondering on his words, she was beginning to see the truth in them. That truth was painful, but it could not be denied. She had indeed behaved as a spoiled child.

"I didn't mean to, Walter," she whispered, her lips suddenly dry and her voice shaking. She pulled her hands away from him and began wringing them; her worst nervous habit. "I thought I was doing everything right! I did my best! I realise that I can't risk Elliot's life by searching for him, and so I decided to resign myself to my fate and start my marriage off in peace. I had hoped that by having a new home and having everything ready, that my husband would be pleased."

Walter's visage gentled. "I know you did your best, Amaleigh, but can you see how this all looks to Jack? Can you even begin to see how abjectly miserable and belittled he must feel? You are the Princess, and for better or worse, you are also his wife. From the moment he faced you for the first time he practically had your wealth and rank thrown in his face. How would you feel, Amaleigh, if you were in his place?"

The heat of utter shame cloaked her until she felt almost smothered. Walter was right. She had not genuinely taken anyone into consideration but herself; even what good she had attempted was only half thought out. Had she ever been capable of imagining herself in the position of another? She bit her lip in chagrin as she realised that had she not only never attempted to imagine herself in the place of another, but she had never even wanted to.

In such a light, she knew that Jack Swift was in the right to be angry. He was in the right to not want anything to do with her.

But that should make her happy; shouldn't it?

Amaleigh stared down at her wringing hands and frowned. She did not feel happy at all.

For the next several weeks Amaleigh channelled all of her pent-up frustrations into her weapons and combat practices with Walter. She had never truly appreciated how satisfying it was to heft her sword and slash away with all her strength nor to dodge and roll and perform all the evasive manoeuvres she knew. She found that the more she focused her attention on her sessions the calmer and more self-confident she felt afterwards.

Walter praised her and rejoiced as her skills dramatically increased. Amaleigh seldom received words of genuine praise from the man and thus valued them all the more when she earned them. Sometimes she fought with anger, and those were the times she performed poorly. When she fought with determination to prevail, she performed much better.

One day, her surrogate grandfather surprised her with a challenge.

"Amaleigh, there are bandits skulking at the edge of the woods leading out toward the islands where your brother gets most of Albion's timber. Do you think you can handle them?"

His expression was serious and the laughter that bubbled just behind Amaleigh's lips died at once.

"Bandits? Are you serious, Walter? I'm a Princess, not a soldier!"

Walter burst out laughing. "A Princess? Yes, you are, indeed; but you are also so much more! You cannot tell me that you do not know that your carry your mother's Hero's blood!"

The young woman sighed and placed her sword in its rack behind her. She did not turn back to face her mentor.

"I have supposed that I might be, as last year you made such a fuss of how I broke your sword in practice. But Walter, Logan is the King! If anyone is the Hero in the family, it must surely be he."

"Bollocks! Your brother was groomed to rule, but you are the Hero." He put his beefy hands on Amaleigh's shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "You are the Hero Albion so desperately needs, Amaleigh, there is no doubt in my mind."

"What if you are mistaken?" The young woman kept her back to Walter. She knew that he was correct, but was loathe to admit it. To turn and face him would be to accept that he was right and that her life as she knew it, along with her new 'marriage' was about to change dramatically.

_"I am Theresa, Seer of the Spire and adviser to your mother. It was under my guidance that your mother flourished as a Hero and saved Albion from ruin. Now, it is your turn to do so."_

_The hooded gypsy woman in the red and white robe nodded sagely as she eyed Amaleigh from head to toe. "Yes, you are the one needed to save Albion from an even greater peril."_

_Amaleigh turned away from the woman and studied the dream-scape. All was white and shades of grey excepting herself and the Seer. She was on an isolated road paved with stones. To either side of her was misty white... nothingness. Behind her was the same. When she turned forward again to regard the woman, she saw before her a large ornate brass gate._

_She did not want to hear this woman any longer. She had heard more than enough about her from her mother, Queen Sparrow, and although she had thrilled at her mother's stories of adventure, she had never believed that she could be her mother's equal in any way. She was simply a young Princess who had fighting skills, but felt more comfortable at the pianoforte and the harp than wielding a weapon for any purpose other than exercise._

_"With your brother on the throne Albion will be doomed. You have time to prepare, but you must overthrow your brother, take the Crown, and save Albion from a great evil that will destroy everything in its path. Sir Walter Beck will be one of your greatest allies. There is also another. You must be strong, prepare yourself, and save the land and people you are responsible for."_

_"I don't think that I can..."_

_It was with a mixture of horror and anger that she awoke at this point. Evidently the Seer was just as evasive and elusive as her mother had said._

"Amaleigh, now is the time for you to prove what you are. Go now and slay the bandits."

Somehow she was facing Walter once more although she had no memory of turning to face him. The voice that issued from him was eerily similar to the low and rough timbre of Theresa's.

"You are ordering me?" she asked in disbelief. After all, Walter was not royalty; she was.

He nodded as sagely as the Seer had and his entire countenance eerily mimicked hers. "Yes, as your mentor and first ally in what must come to be, I am. Go now, Amaleigh, and prove yourself. You are ready."

* * *

><p>Dodging bullets, leaping toward men and away from them, slashing away with her sword while returning taunt for taunt; all this Amaleigh had expected. What she had not expected was when she was surrounded by five men who were wounded but not mortally so that her innate Hero abilities would take her over.<p>

She had recalled her mother having the ability to shoot fire and electricity, among other strange magics, from her hands. Ignoring her sword for several moments, she decided to take the risk to test herself. She crouched, concentrated on magic, and called upon her blood to grant her something, anything, to prove one way or the other if she had a choice in what lay ahead for her. What she did next shocked the bandits and herself, literally. Luckily for her she survived the event. They did not.

Blue electricity had erupted from her outstretched hands and shot outward and engulfed every bandit around her. As her violently quivering body harnessed and controlled the energy, the men were suffused by blue dancing flame-like tendrils. They shook, trembled, screamed in agony, and then slowly crumpled to the ground. Nothing was left of them save their blackened skeletons.

Amaleigh felt as if every every eye in Millfields was upon her; judging and condemning her. What had she done? She had slain bandits that not only robbed people, but killed them, and all with nothing but her own fighting skills and new-found magic. They were bandits, yes, but they were also human beings.

She had coldly and easily killed them. She had, almost without effort, snuffed out their lives. To have such power was something she believed she had accepted on her way to intercept the bandits, but in truth she had not. She had not genuinely accepted nor understood what she was capable of. Now she had no choice but to face it. The proof was all around her.

Amaleigh slowly sank to the ground amidst the charred remains of two skeletons. Her knees crushed the ribs of one bandit and the sound sent a wave of nausea through her. Of their own volition the fingertips of one of her hands grazed an intact rib. The feel was that of untanned hard leather.

It was too strange, too unreal, and altogether too much for her. Amaleigh's confused and muddled mind could not process what she had just done. The fact that these men were dead because of her was just too dreadful!

Great wracking sobs erupted from her very gut and she buried her face in her dirty and trembling hands. Rapid splintered and flickering images of Walter, Logan, nobles, average citizens, and the great Map Table in the Castle's War Room depicting Albion flooded her heightened senses all the way to their frayed ends.

"No, no, not me!" she gasped between sobs, "I cannot be the one! I cannot be right for all this!"

Albion could not rely upon her! She could never be the Hero her mother was. She was just a girl with too much power and no idea of what to do with it. And she had just killed five men!

"Shhh... there is nothing wrong with you," a gentle and familiar voice said. "You are good, Amaleigh. Shush now, and let me help you."

Strong arms pulled her into an equally strong embrace. It took Amaleigh several moments to realise that Jack Swift was kneeling beside her and holding her.

"You beat us to the draw, my Lady, and have doubtless saved many innocent lives."

"Not me," she gasped again, "I cannot do this! I cannot be what they say I am!"

Swift said something to his men and they backed away from the couple.

"Amaleigh, come with me. Let me tend to your wounds and tell me everything. Is that all right with you?"

"I... I do not know." Truly, she did not. One day this man was kind to her, another he was rude and angry, and now he was gentle, concerned, and comforting.

"Well, I do know. Besides, there is the small matter of you being my wife, is there not? Come, let me take you to my... er... to the Swift Manor."

"You are being a perfect gentleman," she whispered, still terrified of herself, of him, and of everything in general, "but I know that you do not want anything to do with me."

Swift hesitated, then tightened his hold on her. "Let us forget such nonsense, shall we? I will carry you if I must."

For the first time Amaleigh looked directly into his eyes. They were filled with sincerity and kindness. She could not help but smile.

"I think I can walk, but if I am mistaken you may have to carry me after all," she replied in an attempt at levity.

The Major's eyes sparkled and he returned her smile. "That's the spirit! Come, you'll soon feel much better. The house is not far."


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree

#7

This day was certainly taking the strangest twists and turns, Amaleigh thought, as she reclined in the pleasingly warm bathwater. Firstly, she had been instructed by Walter, or had it actually been Theresa, to slay bandits. She had not only slain them with battle skills she had not realised she possessed save for sparring, but then literally incinerated them utilising a frightening oddity encapsulated in her very being. When nausea and panic had swept over her at her newly discovered magical ability, her saviour had turned out to be none other than Major Swift, her husband!

He held her tenderly and whispered words of comfort until her sobbing ceased. Only then did he assist her to her feet and, one arm solidly around her waist, walk her to his home. She had barely taken in a glimpse of the entryway when he hastily instructed his valet to summon a maid and draw a bath for his wife.

The young maid, Shelby, was a sweet girl, barely sixteen years of age, but she was very skilled in being a lady's maid. She prepared the bath and all necessary sundries for Amaleigh within minutes.

The warm gardenia-scented water did not wash the fears of the day away, but it certainly helped her to relax. Amaleigh had allowed Shelby to wash her back and her hair, but then politely dismissed her. She wanted to be alone for awhile before joining the Major for tea.

This bathing chamber; was it hers? Did he want it to be hers? The young Princess looked about the room and noticed that it was every bit as functional and fashionable as her own. The towels were of the finest quality, every bar of soap and sponge was brand new, and the tub was large and comfortable. In fact, it was as spacious and comfortable as any in the Palace.

She had indeed, as Walter observed, underestimated Jack Swift, but she resolved to never do so again. Whether the man had the riches she was accustomed to did not truly matter, as it was clear that whatever he would have would be the very best obtainable within his means. Good taste and an eye for quality and efficiency were not traits that could be bought at any price, but Swift had them, and now Amaleigh was more than just a little ashamed that she had not given him the benefit of her doubts.

Amaleigh closed her eyes in pleasure and relief. He had even declared that her fear of him not wanting anything to do with her was nonsense! She did not know why that pleased her, but it did. For whatever reason, this man's good opinion was valuable to her. Hopefully she would not lose it by doing or saying something foolish when she joined him downstairs.

She relaxed in the comfortably warm bathwater until she was confident that her strength and composure were restored, and then she summoned Shelby to help her dress. It was a surprise to discover that the Major had custom-made clothing of all sorts waiting for her. From the half-dozen laying across the bed in the adjoining room she selected a simple day dress of pale green calico to wear and slipped white half-boots onto her feet. Shelby combed her unruly long red hair into shimmering silkiness and carefully coiled and fastened it at the back of her neck. When Amaleigh saw her image in the looking-glass she was taken aback at how lovely and womanly she appeared.

Womanly... she had never quite thought of herself as such. Being female and a young woman, yes, especially when she was with Elliot, but never womanly in the manner she felt now. Whether it was her time away from the Palace and Logan, or the very fact that she was married, consummated or not, or discovering that she was likely Albion's Hero, she did not know. She did know that she felt older and wiser, and these realisations pleased her.

She was no longer merely Logan's younger sister; she was a woman grown and a budding Hero. These thoughts bolstered her courage as she prepared to see the Major.

Her courage proved to be fickle, however, for as soon as she began to descend the stairs it wavered and faltered. She certainly knew that she was no longer a petulant child, but would Swift feel that way? Simply because she was his wife legally did not mean that he would think of her any differently than he had upon their awkward and unpleasant meeting at the house she had so blithely assumed he would live in with her.

Well, there was nothing for her now but to forge ahead. At the base of the stairs she could turn and enter the library, or she could head toward the dining room. The library tempted the nervous Princess, but she did not wish to be impolite and possibly allow the tea the Major was preparing for them to cool. The dining room it would be.

The Major rose from his seat at the dining room table and bowed deeply and formally.

"Amaleigh," he said smoothly, pulling out a chair for her.

She hesitantly seated herself and he pushed her chair in and returned to his own.

"You look beautiful," he said with a smile.

Amaleigh blushed. "Thank you, but I don't feel very beautiful. I feel... soiled. I feel tainted."

"I see, and I assure you that I understand," Swift said, taking up the tea pot and filling their cups. "I am not taking your feelings lightly. Are you well enough to take tea, or would you prefer to rest upstairs?"

The Princess ran her fingertip along the gold-rimmed top of her cup and inhaled deeply. The tea was light and had a pleasing floral aroma. Logan always took tea black, but Amaleigh preferred light teas.

"I am well enough, Major, thank you."

"Very well, then we shall talk, but first tell me if your maid and bath were satisfactory."

She dropped her gaze to her steaming cup. "Yes, Major, very much so. Thank you."

"You are quite welcome. Now, take a sip of that tea, look me in the eyes, and listen to this old man tell you a story or two. You may feel better afterwards."

His tone was so kind and understanding that Amaleigh felt her reservations slip away. She was beginning to see that Jack Swift was a man she could talk to and confide in.

"You aren't so old," she said, raising her eyes. For the first time she studied him; really studied him. His face was tanned and a little careworn, but not unseemly. In fact, he was quite pleasing to look at. His face was open and comely; handsome even. His dark brown hair was thick and full, and the curling wave on the right side of his head was almost entirely white, but rather than age him, it lent him a rather dashing look.

He was obviously not a young man, but neither did he seem so old as to repulse her as she had initially feared. His figure was lean and firm, and if the muscles in his arms as he held her earlier were any indication of his strength and fitness of body, then he was in prime physical condition. She also suddenly recalled that being a Major was not the highest rank in the Army. He had years yet to serve and to earn promotions if he so desired.

He was looking intently at her, obviously aware of her scrutiny. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown and filled with care and concern. He also apparently did not mind her perusal and remained silent while she processed her thoughts regarding him. His eyes softened as she continued to study him. He was obviously not offended and was prepared to give her all the time she needed.

His eyes spoke the words his lips did not. Those dark eyes... Were they like Elliot's? No, his eyes were darker than Elliot's and did not have the look of warm honey she had become accustomed to. Still, Jack Swift's eyes had their own unique appeal, although Amaleigh could not yet determine precisely what about them appealed to her.

"No, you are not so old," she repeated softly. She knew that his years were easily double hers, but the man before her did not seem such an old man, but rather a seasoned and mature gentleman and officer.

"You are kind to say so," he chuckled, "but we both know that I am old enough to be your father. However, that aside, how do you fare?"

They both knew what he meant, but Amaleigh took a sip of her tea and returned it to its saucer. Its heat soothed her throat and warmed her belly.

"Good," she replied, but the Major knew she was referring to the tea in her reluctance to respond, and so he gently pressed her.

"You are an incredible young woman, Amaleigh," he said, placing a gloved hand on hers. Then he seemed to catch himself and withdrew it quickly. Did he fear her censure?

And why was he wearing gloves indoors? They were black close-fitting gloves of soft kid and did not hamper his movements, but still, to wear them in his own house? Amaleigh frowned and was about to ask him about them, but the Major spoke on.

"You had your first taste of real battle today, Princess, and you not only survived, but came out of it stronger."

"Stronger?" she whispered. She had not considered that. But here she was; bathed, clean, and above all, alive, if that was what he meant. "I... I suppose so, said in such a way. My blood has my mother's magic, but other than that, I fear I do not comprehend your meaning."

"Do you not?" Swift asked her, leaning forward in his chair. "Amaleigh, examine the facts, and then we'll move on to your feelings on the matter. The facts are that you took on fully armed and undeniably dangerous men. You confronted them, defeated them, and now sit across from me stronger and more formidable than ever. You have, in a word, flourished."

"Flourished? I feel as if I'm now just another killer!" she retorted hotly. Where had ill temper suddenly come from? Because she knew that he was correct and she did not want to admit it? Because she feared that by acknowledging these facts, that would indeed be soon responsible for all of Albion?

"A killer?" Swift responded. "I suppose so, but aren't all soldiers and heroes killers? Do you not realise that killing is necessary at times? Do you not know how many lives you have saved by slaying men who have made robbing and murdering a career?"

Amaleigh knew that he was right and there was no denying it. Her own family history was more than enough to verify that.

"My mother would have said the same thing," Amaleigh conceded with a sigh. "But to be honest, I don't know if I can ever come to feel as comfortable with killing as she did."

"Did she tell you she felt comfortable with killing?" Swift asked, a brow quirking in curiosity.

"Yes," she replied. "She told me that she killed when she had to and that was that. I asked her if she was ever haunted by nightmares or guilt. She was very calm and adamant when she told me that she never felt any such things. She said she would take a life and simply move on." Amaleigh met Swift's steady gaze. "My mother was not an evil or unfeeling woman, Major. Why is it that she killed and felt nothing? I feel horrible, even though I know that you are right. I know those men were murderers, but when I killed them, and so easily at that, I felt as if I hadn't the right to! I felt as if I were an evil, odious thing, and my magic made it all the worse! Those men didn't have a chance against it!"

"But it was either them or the innocent citizens of Millfields, Amaleigh," Swift went on. "What would your choice be; to have the bandits die, or the people they prey upon?"

"Well, the bandits of course." Her fingers toyed nervously with the handle of her tea cup.

"And today it was also either the bandits or yourself. Do you believe you should simply have allowed them to slay you? They would not have hesitated, woman or not."

"I... no." Amaleigh scowled, perplexed. "Why do you make so much damned sense? I killed them with magic! I don't even know how I did it, I simply did! It was as if I just wished them dead and it happened. How am I to live with that? As despicable as those men were, weren't they also men who perhaps had families? Lives apart from their chosen... ah... careers?"

"That is good question, and one that sets you apart from the sort of men and creatures that plague Albion," the Major responded confidently. He took a drink of his tea, set the cup down, and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "Amaleigh, when I killed for the first time, I'll admit that I did not feel terribly remorseful. I was, as I still am, in the service of Albion. I shot and killed a bandit just outside of Bowerstone. I saw the act as my duty to serve and protect. However, there came a day where I did not find it so easy to put a man's death behind me."

Amaleigh stared into Swift's eyes. "No? You felt remorse?"

Swift nodded. "I did. Well, to an extent, at any rate. The man was a bandit, yes, but this time I found a picture that had slipped from his coat pocket bearing the image of a woman and a young girl. I presume that they were his family. It was then that I realised I had rendered that woman a widow and the girl fatherless."

"Yet you are still a soldier," Amaleigh said softly, hoping that none of the men she had killed had families. "Do you now have difficulty taking lives?"

"No, not really," he replied with bald honesty. "But I will admit that sometimes I reflect upon that day, and over the years have shed a few tears over the fact that I took a man from his family, and likely have done so many times. But life goes on, Amaleigh, and so does duty. As long as there are bandits, monsters, and creatures of evil, slaying them will remain an inevitability. It does no good to dwell on what may have been or allow yourself to wallow in sorrow and doubt. You will only harm yourself, my dear, and that will do no-one any good. Besides, if a soldier allows himself to feel for every death he must commit, he would go mad. It is a simple truth that we must not allow that to happen, Amaleigh. We must focus on duty and protecting those who cannot protect themselves. To do otherwise is to blithely court disaster."

Amaleigh swallowed nervously but silently agreed with him. She could not allow herself to sink into despair. If she had to kill, she did not have to kill thoughtlessly and needlessly. She would only battle those who needed to be battled and no more. She would not be like some of the earlier Heroes of Albion who killed mercilessly and for the glory of being feared and dreaded.

"I do not need to be an evil Hero, if indeed a Hero I am," she reasoned softly. "I will not become as some of the dreaded Heroes of old."

"And you shall not," Swift said with conviction. "I do not know you intimately, Amaleigh, but I can see enough in you to know that you are good and righteous. I do not think Albion could have a better Hero than you."

She felt her lips curve into a smile. "Sir, what if your judgement is impaired? What if I am the opposite of what you believe?"

"Then I think I would have invited a blood-thirsty woman into my home who would not have wanted either a bath or tea," he teased her in return.

Then his smile broadened and the laugh-lines around his eyes made his face appear all the more handsome and amiable. "And I doubt that you would be such delightful company for a man who sorely needs it."

Amaleigh felt her face flush but his compliment pleased her. Did he truly find her company pleasurable?

Swift cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap, clearly ready to change the subject.

"Amaleigh, I must return to Mourningwood Fort on the morrow. If you wish, you may dine with me tonight, or you may return home. But if you choose to leave now, I want your word that you are physically and emotionally ready to do so. Also, if you wish to depart, I shall personally escort you to your home. I refuse to allow you out of my sight until I am satisfied that you are safe."

The Princess stared into her half-drunk cup of tea and pondered. She was ready to depart, but she found that she did not wish to. She felt safe with the Major, and his company and presence were more pleasing and comforting than she had anticipated. Besides, Walter would only interrogate her on her bandit encounter and she was in no mood to discuss it, nor to be alone after he left for another of his nightly pub crawls.

"Amaleigh?"

"I... I may remain?"

"Of course. Why would you doubt such a thing?"

She swallowed thickly and met his gaze squarely. "I would like to dine with you, Major. I do not wish to leave just yet."

She did not say that she was stung by the fact that he did not refer to this house as hers as well as his. Still, she loved Elliot, so why should she care? She did not love Swift, nor he her, but his house felt like so much more of a home than hers. It had a warm and inviting air that hers sorely lacked.

"Amaleigh, you are welcome here any time," Swift said softly, attempting to decipher the meaning behind her words and her hesitation. "You may remain as long as you wish. You may also come here at any time, whether I am present or not."

"Thank you," she replied. "You are very kind."

Swift nodded and stood. "I will see to our dining arrangements. In the meantime, you may wish to peruse the library. I know that it can be nothing compared to the one at the Castle, but still, you may find something to interest or amuse you."

"Major?"

He turned to her and raised a brow.

"Why are you wearing gloves?"

He hesitated for several long moments before responding. "I am wearing them so I do not inadvertently touch you with my bare skin, Princess."

Amaleigh sat speechless and mortified as he bowed stiffly and left the room.


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree

#8

_Walter, my dear friend and guardian, I apologise for not being at the house lately and also for this hurried note. The Major has departed for Mourningwood Fort, and, most annoyingly, without me! Well, as I have come to realise that I am the Hero of Albion whether I like it or not, I have decided to follow him there. _

_No doubt he believes he is being chivalrous in not taking me with him, but I must learn all I can to be the Hero Albion needs. I must increase my skills, and how better than by direct combat? You have said so yourself, my trusted friend and teacher. _

_And so I am on the good Major's heels. He shall have aid in fighting off the ever-increasing Hollowman attacks this very nightfall if I have my way._

_And, my dear Walter, I usually do!_

_With love,_

_Amaleigh_

* * *

><p>"Sir?"<p>

Captain Benjamin Finn tentatively stepped into Swift's private tent. During his past several stretches at the Fort the Major had been behaving strangely. Neither he nor the men at the Fort could pinpoint the reason, but their beloved commander had not been his calm and congenial self of late. He had suddenly become more serious than ever. He had increased and intensified weapons practice, barked out sharp reprimands for weapons not flawlessly clean and oiled, and even stopped partaking of ale with the men after a battle well fought.

It was a puzzle that had all utterly baffled.

"Yes, Captain?" Swift replied wearily, raising his head from a stack of missives on his desk.

Finn ran a hand nervously through his tousled blond hair.

"Um, Sir, there is... ah... a young lady demanding to see you!"

"Ah, another noblewoman with her entourage no doubt demanding more protection around her mansion, yes?" Swift said with a note of irritation in his tone. "Please, politely send her away with the usual reassurances."

"I don't think I can do that," Finn said, and then rushed on as he saw the Major's eyes narrow and his lips tighten into a thin line.

"The lady is the Princess, Sir!"

The Major sucked in a quick breath.

"The Princess is here?" he burst out, leaping to his feet. "Is she well? How did she fare reaching this gods-forsaken place?"

"She is quite well, Sir," the young man replied, grinning when he saw the Major sigh with obvious relief. "But she is demanding to see you at once. She also said something like, 'How dare he leave without telling me?' and 'Who in the Hells does he think he is?'"

Swift swallowed thickly. "Well, I had no idea that the Princess would trouble herself with matters here, but if..."

The Major's words were cut off as Princess Amaleigh stormed inside the tent and jabbed an accusing finger almost atop Swift's nose.

"How dare you leave me without speaking to me first? You know I want to know what is going on; not only with the Army but with you! You didn't even have the decency to leave me a note! Shelby had to tell me!"

Finn chuckled softly.

The Princess whirled around, her coppery hair flying about her shoulders as she huffed at Finn. "Don't you dare laugh! I'll assign you latrine duty myself if I hear so much as one more sound from you!"

Finn silenced himself immediately. He knew that an angry woman was not a creature to be taken lightly, especially a royal one. However, this royal one was quite a surprise. He had just noticed that she was not garbed as a royal, but as a fighter. Were the rumours whispered in the pubs he frequented true? Was the Princess possibly Albion's newest Hero?

Suddenly the Princess sighed and calmed herself. "Major," she said, gesturing for him to be at ease, "please, just allow me to train here. I need to learn. What better place than this one, and who better to teach me than you? Besides, I promise I'll do my best to be of help to you and all the men here. I have heard of the dreadful things that happen in this place."

Swift bowed and smiled, his entire demeanour relaxing. "Captain, go and instruct Private Jammy that he will have assistance tonight. I need to speak to the Princess alone, now."

Finn left the tent, puzzled. Why was the Princess here, and why was she so concerned with the Major's welfare? To top off this baffling turn of events, Finn noticed that the two apparently knew each other more than passingly well. Had they actually become friendly merely because Swift and a handful of men happened upon her after a bandit attack in Millfields?

"Amaleigh, I am truly sorry that my sudden departure unsettled you so, but I had no idea that you would wish to accompany me." He nearly took her hands into his, then remembered that they were bare. He quickly changed his gesture to a gentle grasp on her upper arms. Would he ever be able to forget how she told her brother that the touch from a man his age would repulse her?

"I also do not want to expose you to dangers that you may not be ready for," he added sincerely.

No, he did not want to expose her to raw and horrific battle. During her time with him they had gradually come to know each other better, becoming more at ease at with each other and even enjoying themselves. He had, despite his own expectations and desires to the contrary, come to care for her as more than a friendly acquaintance.

"When will I ever be ready for real battle if I do not have the opportunity to train?" she asked, her green eyes searching his face. She stepped closer to him, so close that Swift was uncomfortably aware of the heat of her body. "I need to train," she insisted softly and insistently, "and I need to fight. How else am I to learn? Besides, Walter has told me so many things about this place."

Her intimate closeness both unnerved and pleased him. After her initial discomfort in his presence and her own in his house had diminished, she had begun to return to her true demeanour; light-hearted, caring, and intelligent and engaging in manner. She also possessed a playful sense of humour and a gentle air of teasing that sometimes left him blushing.

Amaleigh's gaze now dropped to Swift's chest and she sighed sadly. "I had no idea that so many good men have already died here."

She looked back up into his face and her expression rendered him speechless. The ice and steel gleam of determination in her visage brooked no argument; and he also had to inwardly admit that she was correct. She needed to learn all she could to not only be a Hero, but a survivor.

At that last thought, a lump formed in his throat. Not all Heroes survived, did they? In fact, Amaleigh's mother had barely escaped many of her own battles with her life. After the fall of Lord Lucien, it was rumoured that the Mage, Garth, had perished during an expedition with Reaver, the immortal Hero of Skill and current Industrialist of Bowerstone.

The Fighter-Monk, Sister Hannah, had died in the far North defending a village from barbaric invaders.

And before him now was Amaleigh, the Princess of Albion and also his wife, even if only in name. Amaleigh was so young and lovely, filled to the brim with bright and vibrant life, and the past several weeks she had spent in his home while he had been on leave had shown him many sides to her that he never knew existed. He had come to care deeply for her. She was charming and intriguing and he enjoyed discovering her interests, common and otherwise. They began to forge a camaraderie that both appreciated. He had seen that age was not a factor that necessarily was an accurate gauge of a person's wisdom, talents, or compassion.

He closed his eyes and forced all such thoughts away. He would dwell upon them another time. He had to deal with the present, and the present was alluringly, not to mention exquisitely painfully, close.

"Amaleigh," he said, attempting to choose his words carefully, "you are correct. You must train and fight. But I also need you to allow me to continue to act as your... guardian." He inwardly winced at his poor choice of words. He knew her well enough that they would not be well received.

He was quickly proven to be right.

"My guardian?" Her eyes widened in obvious dismay. "Guardian? Is that how you see yourself in relation to me?"

She moved in so close now that her body touched his; barely, but it was more than enough to stir senses that he fought to quell at once. He saw her bite her bottom lip in agitation when he failed to summon a satisfactory response. What was he supposed to tell her; that she should live her life as if he were not her husband? That she should seek out a man who could give her everything he could not; youth, wealth, position, children they could raise together?

In fact, he had scarcely thought of anything else since she had come to stay with him. He did not delude himself into thinking she could ever love him. But aside from that, did he love her? It was too soon to tell, but he did care for her more than he ever thought he could. Her presence had quickly become a delight even when they disagreed over the finer points of the many subjects they discussed. However, in essentials they were very much alike, and he found that incredibly disturbing. Discovering that they had much in common was generally something for a husband and wife to celebrate, but in this case they were not truly a husband a wife; they were merely bound together by the whim of a tyrant King.

Still, he took his vows to Amaleigh seriously and would watch over her as carefully as he could, even if that meant risking his own life. He would do all he could to ensure her future happiness. In fact, he soon expected to have something in hand that could potentially make her very happy indeed.

"Jack?"

Her use of his first name jarred him back to the moment.

"How else would you have me think of our relationship, Amaleigh?"

There; that should settle things. Or so he hoped.

Amaleigh's nostrils flared in irritation and her breathing quickened. She seized his wrists and pulled his hands down to rest firmly on her hips.

"I'm not entirely sure, Jack," she said through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, "but I sure as the Hells do not want you thinking of me as a child!"

The curves of her hips even through the thick fabric of her trousers was enough to scramble his normally ordered mind. He nervously pulled his hands away, but as he was did so she firmly resisted his efforts, inadvertently causing his hands to end up coming to rest just below her breasts.

Both were caught by such surprise that for several long moments the only sound in the tent was of their harsh and quickened breathing. Then, face flaming, Amaleigh suddenly stepped back several paces. Jack's hands hovered uncertainly in the air and Amaleigh licked her dry lips.

"Pray forgive me, Major. I... It seems as if you have the uncanny ability to put me on the defensive and also to... ah... compromise my position!"

"Pray forgive me, Princess, but it seems as if you were not on the defensive but quite the opposite. That was one attack manoeuvre I found myself woefully unprepared to counter!"

His unexpected inspiration to humour broke the tension and both laughed.

"You are quite right," she teased him in return, her lips curving into the smile he had come to enjoy. "You underestimated me!"

"I did, indeed," he replied with mock seriousness. "Now, to the task at hand." He cleared his throat. "If you've a mind, Private Jammy shall instruct you in the use of the mortar which is a skill imperative for you to master."

Amaleigh's brow furrowed in thought. "Because it can take out small groups at once?"

"Precisely. I want you to be able to do that as Hollowmen unfailingly appear in groups. But fret not, you shall also have your fair share of hand to hand combat." He was determined to keep his voice level and not betray his anxiety for her safety.

She smiled again, her expression bright and cheerful. "Thank you, Maj... Jack. I appreciate everything you are doing for me."

He bowed. "And you have no idea of what you are doing to... ah... _for _me."

Her brow quirked quizzically, but thankfully she did not question him. She left the tent and Jack sagged into his chair.

He knew he should not be so pleased that she had followed him to the Fort, but he was. And his reasons were not entirely selfless, either. This woman was the single most complicated thing that had ever happened to him and he could not feel regret. Oh, he knew that pain of no small magnitude would wound him eventually, but for now he had the pleasure of her company once more.

* * *

><p>"Bloody hells! Ah... pardon me, Miss, but... but..."<p>

"You can't believe we're married," Amaleigh replied with a smile. "Well, it is not exactly a secret, but we haven't gone about announcing it, either. I would appreciate it if you were to keep it to yourself for the present."

"Yes, Miss, I shall!"

Private Jammy was enjoying his time with the Princess. He had instructed her in the use of the mortar and she had taken to it quite well, dispatching his field targets with little effort. She had talent, this one! She also was someone he took an instant liking to. After the handsome and rakish Captain Finn introduced her to him, the jammiest, and also the most scarred and pitiful-looking soldier in Albion, she hadn't so much as flinched. She had smiled graciously and clasped his hand in greeting. She had not judged him by his appearance and treated him as kindly as she had everyone else.

He was honoured that she had shared the good news of her marriage to him. Or was it good news? She had been baldly honest when she explained that the two had only married because it was the King's desire that they do so. The Princess herself seemed content enough, but she did not behave as a woman in love. The Major also did not seem overtly affected either. On the other hand, he _had _been oddly distant to his men lately and had been training them harder than ever. So, was he pleased by the marriage or displeased? Or was he confused and still trying to sort out his feelings?

Being married to the Princess by order of the King would be a bloody odd thing, Jammy thought, so confusion would be natural. Well, given time, the Princess and the Major would sort things out for themselves. In the meantime, he himself had a job to do. He would make damned certain that the Princess would be as safe as possible, and that meant more practice at the mortar.

Amaleigh was so exhausted that she could barely stand much less swing the mortar. She had been behind it practising for hours until her target-shooting was, as Jammy put it, 'well nigh perfect.'

"I have to say, my Lady, that yer one of the best at that thing I ever saw! Even better than Finn and maybe the Major himself!"

Amaleigh smiled and wiped her sweaty and filthy palms on her trousers. "Thank you, Jammy, but I doubt that!"

"No, really! Yer a real natural."

"Even if that's so, I certainly hope that when the attack comes I will be able to perform as well as I do when there are no lives at stake."

"I think ya will," the young man said confidently. "Princess, I've seen countless soldiers fear that they will buckle under pressure, but let me tell ya that when that pressure comes, they do just fine. Yeah, we lose some men now and again, but very few, and that's only 'cause there are so many more of them Hollowmen than there are of us."

"Jammy, I'm so glad that we haven't lost you!"

His posture took on an air of pride. "Seven-hundred-twenty-four wounds and still standing! That's why..."

"You're the jammiest soldier in Albion!"

They both laughed. Amaleigh hoped that tonight would not be the night that Jammy's lucky streak would end. She liked the young man. He was cheerful despite the bleakness of the place and its oppressive atmosphere of hopelessness. To Amaleigh, the entire area around the Fort radiated despair. She now wondered how it was that the Major could be so cheerful at home. Yes, he would temporarily be away from this dreary place, but she did not think that she could shake the death and dread that was permeating her very bones as easily as he seemed to, and she hadn't been there for even one full day.

She had taken great strides in proving to Jack Swift that she was not a spoiled child any longer, but a woman grown. During their time together she had come to see sides of the man that, to her embarrassment, she now knew that Elliot lacked. She saw that Jack's fairness, compassion, appreciation for intellect as well as many simple pleasures, were things that now seemed natural. His maturity showed her that her own past associations with the word were incorrect. Maturity did not necessarily indicate advanced age; it was so much more than that.

How could she describe, even to herself, her revelations? Notions of all the things she liked about Jack Swift danced around the periphery of her mind, but she could not force any of them to coalesce into words.

"Jammy," she said, "how would you define maturity?"

"Eh?" The young man gingerly scratched his bandaged head in thought. "I guess I'd say that maturity means knowin' how to act and do the right thing at the right time. You know, like Major Swift does. Finn is pretty mature as a soldier, but in bars he's right immature, he is. Goin' on thirty or so, and he acts like a bloomin' kid. The Major, though; now he can run a Fort, keep people safe, be all cultured and smart, and on top of all that, know how to have fun. Maturity, I'd say, doesn't mean old or stodgy like my grandpa was. I'd trust the Major with every life in Albion, I would. I suppose that's what I'd say mature is. Bein' like the Major."

Amaleigh contemplated Jammy through narrowed eyes. Was he praising Jack in particular because he was her husband and he wanted her to think more highly of him?

No, she suddenly realised, that was not his motivation at all. Jammy's blue eyes shone with pride and adoration. He meant every word he said. His feelings of love and loyalty for his Major were genuine.

Jammy was right, too. He was, Amaleigh determined, spot on. She also trusted Jack. She knew he would do everything in his power to keep anyone safe, but she also got more than an inkling that he would do even more to keep her safe, and not because she was the Princess. He liked her.

Now it was her turn to puff up a little in pride. He did like her; she knew it. She had seen his pleased expressions as they conversed and debated. She had seen his smiles when she made points that surprised him. When she took a hand at helping in the kitchen he had not been scandalised as people at the Castle would have been; he was clearly pleased by her boldness and innovation.

She found that she enjoyed his approval, but more so, that she did not require it, but that his approval was a pleasing bonus. Was that what her mother had meant when she once said that someday Amaleigh and Logan would be truly grown when they 'came unto' themselves?

Jack Swift was significantly older than she, but by degrees she had begun to feel that gap in their ages lessen. There was nothing they could converse about where she could not match or understand him, save for their different backgrounds in childhood. Even then, Amaleigh understood, although she could not share similar reminiscences.

Jack had been taken by surprise when, during tea one evening, she had confided that her parents had been much more doting upon Logan than upon her. She had lacked for nothing as far as education and training in how to behave as a Royal, and she had the affection of her nannies and maids, but of her parents' attention and affection, she experienced little.

"You seem pretty mature, yourself," Jammy suddenly said.

"I beg your pardon?" Amaleigh was too taken aback to respond any other way. She had never had anyone tell her that before.

"You don't seem as young as ya look," he went on, then flushed. "What I mean is, you are real nice and really capable. You don't act all snobby like I used to think a young Prince or Princess would."

"Well, it wasn't so long ago that I may have done," Amaleigh admitted with a small smile. "It's only been lately that I've been doing my best to behave as a woman and not a young girl."

"Yer doin' a right fine job of it, then."

"I certainly hope so," she replied sincerely.

She truly hoped that Jack felt as Jammy did. Simply because he reacted to her physical 'display' earlier did not mean that he was affected by _her _so much as he was by a woman putting his hands on her body. She had indeed wanted to gain his full attention and make her point, but what she had not anticipated was that she made a point to herself as well as to Jack.

She could feel the stirrings of desire for someone other than Elliot.

As unsettling as that realisation was, it was also, to her surprise, not entirely unpleasant.


	9. Chapter 9

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree #9

"Ah, bloody hells, they're here!" Jammy yelled, causing Amaleigh to flinch as he inadvertently shouted into her ear.

Still atop the parapet and at the mortar, Amaleigh squinted at the field outside the Fort. She saw nothing.

"Jammy, I don't see anything!"

"That blue light over there!" he shouted, gaining the attention of the entire Fort. He pointed down and to their right. "That means they're a'comin!"

She saw it now, a small and preternaturally bright blue wisp of light was hovering near one of the outer defence walls. The light hovered, then quivered and suddenly split off into half a dozen orbs. Each orb would, in moments, coalesce into the dry and mouldering corpses of the undead.

"I'm ready!" she said, tensing her body for battle-readiness. "Load me up, Jammy!"

She heard the soldiers below scramble into their practised positions and ready their weapons. Swift rushed to the centre of the Fort and looked up at her anxiously.

"Are you certain you want to be up there, Princess? There's still time for you to get to safety down here and inside the provisions store!" His expression betrayed his worry although his carriage exuded his own readiness for battle.

"I'm as ready as I will ever be, Major!" she called down to him with a smile. "I suddenly am no longer tired! Besides, I think I've become, as Jammy said, 'a right crackin' shot!'"

And it was a good thing she was, too, for suddenly the ground outside began to become host to dozens of the undead as the blue orbs began to appear Jammy loaded the mortar with a round shell and Amaleigh took aim at a cluster of Hollowmen that were bearing rifles instead of swords or scythes. She wanted to take those out first as they were the greater danger.

The Princess focused her aim and fired. All but one exploded in a shower of filthy dirt and bone shards.

"Got the buggers! Nice shot, Princess!" Jammy encouraged her, quickly reloading the mortar. "That's the way to do it! I'll help ya spot and you just keep aimin' and shootin'. With any luck those bastards won't get anywhere near us."

Men below them took position at what were once arrow slits but were now used by Swift's men as protection while they utilised their rifles. Amaleigh was glad that Logan provided the soldiers in Mourningwood with firearms, as using bows and arrows against the undead would be pitifully ineffective. Someone fired a perfect shot and beheaded the one Hollowman her shell had missed.

"There, on the left flank!" Jammy cried out, and smooth as silk, Amaleigh swung the mortar and fired.

And so it went. Jammy spotted and loaded, and Amaleigh fired. The men below picked off the stragglers that Amaleigh's shots missed, but luckily, there weren't many. She was very good at what she was doing, and she allowed herself to feel a swell of pride in herself. She was being truly useful for perhaps the first time in her life!

She had no perception of the passage of time. It seemed that the materialising hordes of the creatures were endless. Still, she pressed on. If Jammy could keep loading and spotting, then she sure as the hells could continue her role.

How long into the battle was it that for the first time she failed to properly aim? A shell exploded impotently alongside a group of shuffling rifle-bearers and the men below had to destroy all of them.

Hissing in anger and frustration, Amaleigh gripped the mortar more tightly. Her entire body ached and her arms and back were paining her dreadfully, but she refused to allow that to deter her. As long as the undead were coming, she would fight.

Or so she thought.

"Amaleigh, allow me. You need a reprieve!"

"No, I can do this!"

But a firm tug was enough to dislodge her from her place. Jack pulled her tightly against his chest and stroked her back soothingly.

"Enough, Amaleigh! You've been at this all day practising and now for over two hours in combat! I'll take over and you sit here beside me and rest. Do not wander from my sight! Do you understand?"

The determined look in his dark sable eyes deterred her from any argument and she nodded wearily. She sank gratefully onto the ground near him and Jammy, but not near enough to be in their way. To her immense relief they demonstrated their combat expertise so effortlessly that she was able to relax and allow her strength and stamina to slowly replenish.

Amaleigh studied Jammy as the young man swiftly did his job. He was fast and efficient despite his many wounds and bandages. There was even a bandage over one of his eyes, demonstrating that his vision was quite sharp despite being his denied its full use. His scarred and blackened hands were nimble and quick and suddenly the Princess felt a surge of thankfulness wash over her as she realised how many lives he was saving with every horde he spotted and every shell he loaded.

Jack was the epitome of self-command and competence as he destroyed horde upon horde. He swung the mortar easily and his fierce determination and intense focus was enough to make Amaleigh feel safe despite her own inactivity. His very presence was enough to do that, but the demonstration of his abilities only served to prove to her not only how skilled he was but how much he cared about preserving the lives of everyone in the Fort.

His muscles bunched and rippled beneath his uniform and Amaleigh's mouth suddenly went dry. He was a fine figure of a man and now she knew his physical strength matched his incredibly fit physique. Despite how 'old' he claimed to be, his body belied that in so many ways. Strength, power, certainty, in utter command and control of himself; these were all Jack Swift at this moment.

Her throat constricted when she saw how his powerful arms and shoulders made his jacket look almost too small. What would those arms feel like beneath her questing and curious hands? Would he moan and sigh with pleasure if she massaged his back? Could she ease his aches after such exertion? Moreover, would he ever allow her to try?

Unbidden, her mind conjured up images of Elliot. Elliot was pretty, there was no denying that, but when she had earlier wondered why she found him 'unformed' when he was nude, she now understood why. He lacked the musculature and prowess of not only Jack, but every man in the Fort. Jack, however, was not only handsome, cultured, and well-spoken, but he was a man to be reckoned with physically as well. She had no doubt, as she watched his muscles tense and relax by turns as he swung the mortar, that if ever there was a contest between the two, Elliot would be on the losing end. She smiled as she realised that that would be the case with every soldier present, including the capable Captain Finn.

And Elliot; had he ever worked a day in his life? Amaleigh frowned. She truly did not know, but she now had doubts. The two of them had played together as children, and as they aged they read together, strolled and fantasised together, and then fell in love. However, while Amaleigh learned how to ride and care for horses, Elliot preferred to spend his time chatting up the milkmaids and playing pranks on the stable boys. While she was taking lessons in fencing and basic self-defence, he whiled away his time in the kitchen with the staff.

Oh, she knew she was no paragon of perfection, but as she continued to watch Jack and Jammy and listen to the battle rage outside the walls, she knew that she herself was far more capable than Elliot could ever be. Did that mean they were ill-suited for each other, or was even such a thought too harsh regarding the young man?

She was a royal female and he a noble male. Perhaps they were just as they should be. But now her status as the potential Hero of Albion could change everything for her; but not necessarily for Elliot. She could be called upon to do battle for her beloved country, but Elliot would not. He was not a soldier nor was he a great scholar or thinker. Being an orphan, he was a penniless ward of the Court, but of noble parentage. He was not expected to be anything other than what a typical noble was; literate, charming, and up to date on the latest fashions and politics.

"The gates!" someone suddenly shouted, jarring Amaleigh from her thoughts.

She heard Jack curse.

"I'll go!" she cried out, leaping to her feet. "I'm rested now and can help!"

She did not wait for Jack's permission. She leapt down into the Courtyard without jarring her joints, a Hero perk she particularly appreciated, and positioned herself behind the men straining to keep the gates closed.

"Go ahead and open them," she said, flexing her fingers and feeling them warm with her gathering Will. "I will burn them with magic and send them back where they belong!"

"Aye, as she says!" Captain Finn shouted above the loud clamouring of the Hollowmen scraping and pounding on the shuddering gates. "Ready your rifles and guard her back!"

Amaleigh's eyes fixed on the gates and the world seemed to slow as the magic in her blood readied itself for her command. She was unafraid as the men rushed back from the gates and allowed them to be flung open. Several dozen of the loathsome creatures roared and charged forward.

Amidst rifle shots and Finn shouting orders, she willed the blue electricity to envelope the creatures and destroy them.

"Turn them to ash!" she commanded through clenched teeth. Excruciating pain permeated her entire body as the magic in her blood spewed forth bright blue magical streaks from her fingertips that wrapped around the undead like ribbons. Deadly ribbons; as they seared the withered flesh of the walking dead like lightening through dried wood. The shambling horrors shuddered and twitched while the electricity did its deadly duty. The Princess did not stop her magical assault until every undead thing was laying charred and smouldering before her.

_"Why didn't Mother ever tell me that using magic hurts so damned much?" _Amaleigh wondered as she tried but failed to keep her drained body from falling face-down into the dirt.

* * *

><p><em>"Is she free of pain?"<em>

_"Aye, Major."_

_"You are absolutely certain that she's in no danger?"_

_"Aye, Major."_

_"She's too still! Why isn't she awake?"_

_"Sir, she's merely in a faint due to extreme exhaustion. I assure you that she is in no danger."_

_"I don't like it! She doesn't look at all well to me!"_

_"With respect, Sir, I'm the physician. She is all right."_

_"Fine, fine, if you say so. Ready some tea and pain draught, regardless. I'll massage her and try to relieve her of any lingering aches. Hopefully when she awakens she will feel better. Seeing her like that before... It was... it was almost too much!"_

Amaleigh tried to force her eyelids to open but they stubbornly resisted her repeated attempts. Then she tried to speak Jack's name but her voice also failed her. Nor, she realised, could she move her limbs. She was not extremely exhausted as the doctor had said; she was suffering far worse. She was weary through to her very bones, and perhaps beyond.

Hands, warm and sure and strong, began to press at the base of her neck. Thick fingers pushed and probed and then began to locate the spots of pure aching discomfort.

"I'm sorry, Amaleigh, but we had to remove your shirt. You are not indecently exposed, however, and there is a blanket over your hips," Jack said softly. "Do not fear that I will compromise you in any way."

Hells, for the time being that was the last thing she was concerned with! She trusted this man with her very life, and she cared enough for him to not mind at all if he did decide to compromise her.

She gasped in surprise at that realisation. Why was she even thinking such things? Elliot was the one she loved and wanted, wasn't he? Gods; she no longer knew! But... how could she not know a thing like that?

Jack obviously heard her gasp and his hands stopped just as he found knotted muscles beside each of her shoulder-blades.

"Amaleigh?"

She tried to respond, but all that would emerge from her uncooperative throat was a low groan.

"Shhh... it's too soon," he replied softly and soothingly, resuming his ministrations to her sore muscles. "Don't try to speak. It is enough for me to know that you are conscious and..." She heard him swallow thickly. "To know that you will recover."

His fingers and then the heels of his hands pressed firmly but not harshly on her knotted muscles. Damnation, but they were tight! Amaleigh felt her sore body begin to ease and warm heat began to spread from his hands to her shoulders and the middle of her back. She had not known how her body had been so physically tested until now. Jack's hands carefully worked each knot he could find until he reached her lower back. Now she moaned and it was an obvious moan of pleasure and relief.

She heard him chuckle. "I am pleased that you are feeling better! I will now lubricate my hands and continue. You, my dear, likely have more aches in your body at this moment than I have ever had cumulatively during my entire career!"

He was blatantly exaggerating, of course, but Amaleigh found herself relaxing even more and allowing herself to simply enjoy this experience.

She had never been touched so intimately and with such caring. The dreadful examination she had been forced to undergo the day of their marriage was nothing like this. That day it had been cold and clinical, invasive and humiliating, but this was intimacy with genuine caring. Somehow even Elliot's touches and kisses had never felt anything like this.

How did 'this' feel, precisely? Good, obviously, she thought to herself. Jack's soothing hands on her body delivered wonderful sensations. When his hands returned to her back they eased along her spine and slowly smoothed away the stiffness. His thumbs carefully avoided the ridges on her spine and massaged alongside it. His palms and fingers slowly roamed and pressed up and down the sides of her spine until she began to moan and her breathing quickened.

"Good," he observed with satisfaction. "You must be feeling better."

She managed to nod. That was an understatement!

"Now I will try to relax you even more, Amaleigh. I will carefully rub your neck and I want you to tell me at once if you feel even the slightest pain."

She could whisper now. "Yes, Jack. Thank you."

His breath caught. "Thank _me_? No, my dear. It is I who thank _you_. You are an amazing woman and were nothing less than incredible out there. You undoubtedly saved many lives."

Jack's hands gently began to massage her neck. Amaleigh got the distinct impression that he not only intended to reduce her aches and pains but wanted to bring her relaxation and pleasure. His thumbs gently pressed and circled at the base of her neck while his fingers smoothed the tender flesh from shoulders to jaw. Oh, it felt divine!

When pleasurable warmth not born of pure pain relief spread throughout her entire body Amaleigh remembered that beneath the blanket that covered her from her hips downward she was nude. She was actually laying face-down on a cot and being massaged by a man and not only was she nearly naked, but she was enjoying herself!

Perhaps she was enjoying herself too much, for despite the easing of tension in most of her body, other areas of it were becoming decidedly stimulated. Involuntarily she began to moan and sigh. Jack's hands hesitated for a moment, but then he resumed his actions. The very knowledge that he continued despite her feminine sounds of self-indulgent satisfaction instilled in her a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Surely he knew the effect his touch was beginning to have on her, didn't he? Amaleigh could not be certain of that, but what was certain was how he bent closer to her and slightly increased the pressure of his hands on her neck. When another sigh escaped her he slid one hand into her hair and softly ran his fingers through her curls. His calloused fingertips gently traced along her scalp and goose-flesh erupted all over her body. Her nipples tightened into pebble-hard little buds and a bolt of desire shot straight to her sex. Goodness, was this was true desire felt like? Nipples that ached to be touched, slick flesh that longed to be stroked, and a strange emptiness that both thrilled and frustrated her?

For a massage that was intended to relieve her pain and relax her, Amaleigh was starting to believe that the end result of this particular rub-down would not be as relaxing as she and Jack had anticipated.

When Jack's other hand slid from her neck to her upturned cheek her eyelids fluttered open. She saw his pleased expression. His lips curved into a smile and his eyes were shining. When his index finger grazed the corner of her mouth she moved her head and captured it gently between her lips and teeth.

The husky gasping moan that escaped him affected her most acutely. Her maidenhood tightened and moistened in response. A curious pulsing and throbbing sensation tantalised her most intimate flesh with an unknown but certain desirous promise.

Jack could fulfil that promise. She was certain.

But Elliot...

To the hells with guilty thoughts! Elliot was not her husband; Jack was. And he was nothing like she had feared and dreaded the day they met. In fact, he was so much more, and so much better! Logan had chosen well, and as much as a tiny part of her wished that he had not been the cause of her joining with Jack Swift, she could not help but be grateful to him now.

Jack's eyes widened and he stepped back as Amaleigh rolled onto her back to lie face upwards.

"I... ah... " he stammered. His dark eyes darted about uncomfortably and his fists clenched and unclenched nervously.

"What is the matter?"

He quickly seized the blanket and draped it over her nudity.

"I trust you are feeling better?" he huskily asked her.

"Much better," Amaleigh replied smoothly as she sat up, surprising herself that she was utterly unafraid. She smiled as she gazed at his hands.

Puzzled, Jack scrutinised them. "Is something amiss? Is my skin too rough?"

Amaleigh laughed softly and caught his hands in her own and raised them to her lips.

"Not at all," she said and pressed a lingering kiss to each of his captive hands. "I was just thinking how pleased I am that you finally removed those damned gloves. I find that I very much prefer your hands to be bare."

"Ah, my Lady... Amaleigh..." His voice trailed off and his entire posture radiated uncertainty. He did not pull away from her, however.

"Jack, please, allow me to favour you with a small reward."

"I do not think I have earned any such favour from you, Amaleigh."

Was it anticipation mixed with hope that she saw reflected in the depths of his eyes? His handsome yet careworn face wore an expression that she could not decipher, but she knew that there was no displeasure there.

"I say that you have more than earned... this."

Summoning all her boldness she pulled him toward her. She released his hands and cradled his face between her palms. Jack froze and Amaleigh heard his breath hitch.

Quickly, before she could lose her nerve or he his, she pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him.


	10. Chapter 10

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree #10

His lips were hesitant against hers, but when Amaleigh threaded her fingers caressingly through his thick black hair he returned her kiss with a sincerity and raw passion that surprised her. His own fingers found their way into her hair and gently cradled her head.

Why were Jack's fingers trembling so? She had initiated this kiss, not he, and he did not seem displeased, still, she felt she needed to encourage him lest he fear that he was taking advantage of her. She sighed against his mouth and parted her lips, gingerly tracing her tongue across his lush lower lip. He stopped breathing for a moment and Amaleigh seized the opportunity to gently touch his tongue with hers. His entire body froze.

Goodness, what to do now? Jack was obviously not angry with her, but his previous response was now arrested. Was he having second thoughts? She had to do something, and quickly. She did not want this precious opportunity to end.

The decision was made for her, however, as the Major suddenly moved once more. His right hand cupped her chin and tilted her head to one side. His dark gaze scrutinised her eyes intently, searching for something. Whatever it was, he apparently found it, for he sighed in pleasure and leaned down to capture her top lip gently between his teeth before laving his tongue over it.

Amaleigh shivered and goose flesh broke out all over her body. He kissed her top lip, then her bottom lip before claiming both in a deep kiss so possessive that her body fell slack with desire. His left arm slid around her back to support her as he deepened the kiss..

Tobacco, gun-smoke, courage, confidence, desire, raw sexuality and utter maleness; Jack smelled and tasted like all of these. A strange and powerful tingling trickled down Amaleigh's spine and her ears faintly buzzed. She could breathe, yet she felt oddly light-headed and breathless. Jack Swift was kissing her and she felt as if she could walk on air! At the same time the feel of this man's mouth persuading her lips apart for further exploration also made her feel vulnerable, but in a wondrous way. Never had surrender to another person felt so exquisite!

She had never before been kissed like this. Of course she had kissed Elliot in a similar open-mouthed fashion, but now she recalled those kisses as sweet, like candy, but also somewhat cloying. Kissing Jack was akin to tasting heady and exotic wine, perfectly aged and dangerously, but compellingly addicting.

Almost as if outside her own body, she heard herself panting and mewing softly as he explored every secret place in her mouth. Of their own accord, her fingers wound themselves more tightly into his hair and her body arched up towards his, yearning for contact.

He groaned and pulled her firmly against his chest. The buttons of his shirt pressed uncomfortably into the valley between her blanket-covered breasts, but she did not care. The heat of his body through his sweat-dampened shirt clouded her already muddling senses. She knew she wanted more of him, _needed_ more of him, but was he willing to give himself to her, and just as importantly, did she want him to?

"Jack," she gasped, barely aware that she was speaking. But his name, the simple uttering of his name, told her what she already knew deep inside. She wanted all of him. She wanted him to be her husband more than in name and she wanted to be his wife. She longed for a genuine union between them and to spend the rest of their lives together forging and developing it. Not so long ago she would have been incapable of imagining spending her life with anyone but Elliot, and especially someone so much older than herself. Now, however, she had come to know Jack Swift, and to her mixed shame and relief, she saw in him a much better man than she had ever known in her adolescent infatuation.

But did Jack want her in the same way? After all she had said and how poorly she had behaved in the past, could he look beyond all of that and see her as she was now and for who she could be? Could he see her as a worthy wife?

"Amaleigh," Jack groaned, moving his lips to the pulse-point at the base of her throat. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

He smoothed away the hair at the side of her neck and hotly breathed on her earlobe as he spoke. "You... you are exquisite and tantalising, Amaleigh, but..."

"No 'buts,' please, Jack!"

She heard him swallow thickly and he pulled back from her, but only a little. His lips now caressed her forehead.

"Amaleigh, these are circumstances under which you may believe you desire things that you truly do not. And I... I have touched you in most ungentlemanly ways."

"You did nothing I did not want and need," she whispered, clinging to the front of his shirt. "I've come to know you, Jack, and I've come to care for you; very much so!"

"And I for you." He cradled her face between his palms and peered into her eyes. "And that is precisely why I cannot take such heinous advantage of you! We must stop now, lest I go too far and cannot!" His voice was low and husky and broke with emotion.

Jack's pupils were large and dark, his breathing fast and ragged, and his jaw clenched and unclenched. Sweat beaded his forehead and he swallowed audibly once more as he released her. Amaleigh had never seen him so discomfited.

She also realised that this could be her only chance to win him. He was already beginning to rethink their kiss; what if he began to rethink his wedding vows? It was true that they were made under duress and she had vehemently wanted no part of him then, but the lovely ring gracing her finger and his calm and solemn promises on that day reminded her that regardless of how they had come to be wed he was a man of honour. He also cared for her and was attracted to her. Why not make the most of their situation? She was more than willing to try, but could she convince him?

He was older than she and obviously experienced in ways she could not imagine. Damn her youth and ignorance! Still, she was a woman and her womanly instincts told her that even this man could be both seduced and convinced if she could prove her sincerity to him. Then they would be bound together for life and always have each other no matter what obstacles they would encounter. She could not think of anything she wanted more.

She boldly reached up and cupped his cheek. His breath hitched and his eyes fluttered closed as she caressed his cheekbone with her thumb.

"Jack, I am your wife and I no longer care how it happened. I've come to know you and I care for you more than you can know! Please do not turn me away." Her voice choked with sudden nervousness. "This is not just a moment for me, Jack. I've been thinking about us for quite some time. I want you to be my husband. I want to be your wife. And... and right now I need you as a woman needs a man. Claim me and teach me! Please do not reject me, for I could not bear it if you do!"

Damn! She had not meant to beg him. The last thing she wanted was for him to make love to her and claim her as his wife simply because she played upon his guilt or gentleman's nature.

Jack sucked in a deep breath, sounding utterly shocked. But the next moment his lips were on hers once more.

"Gods, Amaleigh, you can drive a man mad, do you know that?" he groaned against her eager mouth.

"I only want to drive _you_ mad, Jack!" she gasped.

He pulled her close, mindful to keep the blanket covering her nakedness, and began their kiss over again. Slowly, so sweetly slowly, the tip of his tongue traced her bottom lip. Amaleigh shivered and she felt his lips curve into a smile. She parted her lips in silent invitation and the Major accepted. Slowly and gently he initiated a exploration of her lips and tongue. Soft and moist, but never wet, he caressed her tongue with a confidence that fired a fresh bolt of desire through her.

Elliot's kisses had always been a bit on the sloppy side, which now surprised her as he had admitted to having had experience with other women. Jack was relaxed and confident. He delicately and skilfully kissed her and drew back slightly every so often so as not to overwhelm her. His small exploratory kisses were gradually stoking her desire as well as demonstrating to her how pleasurable a simple kiss could be! Her previous kisses with an over-zealous Elliot were fast fading from her memory in the face of this man who was obviously savouring every moment, every sensation, and everything about the two of them right there and then.

Her eager hands found their way into his hair and his slowly and deliberately down her back and to her hips. The moment his large warm hands reached her hips her breathing involuntarily quickened. Heat and moisture seeped from the core of her desire.

"You taste so sweet, Amaleigh," he groaned. "Here," he said, tracing his tongue across the shell of her ear, causing her to shudder deliciously. "Here," he added, laving the tip across the lobe, "and here," he concluded, locking his lips at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

His hot breath felt almost scorching as he gently suckled her tender flesh. His hands stroked her hips at the same time and the dual sensations were too much for Amaleigh. Once again her body sagged in wanton surrender.

Jack chuckled softly as he supported her weight. "This old soldier can still please a woman, I take it?"

"Gods, yes! And stop saying you are old." She squarely met his gaze with her own, but her courage began to falter. After all, she was new at this sort of thing. "Please, won't you... ah..."

"Won't I what, Amaleigh? It is my genuine pleasure to be at your command."

Summoning every iota of courage she had, not to mention silently cursing the blush that suddenly covered her from head to toe, she seized the blanket and dropped it to her waist, baring her upper body to him completely.

He sucked in a breath so rapidly that he choked. Amaleigh saw with dismay that the enormity of what she was offering him had apparently only completely dawned upon him at this moment. His eyes widened, his posture stiffened, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"I... ah..." he stammered, but his eyes were fixed upon her body as if he were helpless to turn away.

"You said that you are at my command, Jack," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She could plainly see that he liked what he saw very much indeed, but for some reason he suddenly was reluctant to accept her. "I want you to take me completely. Make me yours and give yourself to me in turn. Let us finally come together as man and wife."

He swallowed nervously but did not reply.

Fear mixed with nausea and dread began to pool in the pit of her belly.

"If you do not want to see me as your wife, then cannot you take me as your lover?"

Silence.

She squeezed her eyes closed in abject shame and mortification. He was rejecting her after all! An agonised sough escaped her throat and she leaned forward to hug her knees and cover her nakedness. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have thought that he would truly wish to join with her either as a wife or a lover? She had seduced him nearly unto making love to her, but something still stopped him at the crucial moment despite his profession that he was at her command and had seemed quite willing to continue their amorous activities.

"What is so dreadfully wrong with me, Jack?"

"Amaleigh..." His voice was low and pained, but when he did not speak further anger and humiliation spurred her to speak since he would not.

"Leave me, Major! You've shamed me quite enough." Wounded pride and desperate defiance reared its ugly head and she spoke on. "Maybe the whores of Bowerstone will be more to your liking! They obviously know everything that I do not. Since you clearly have no qualms with refusing and abasing your wife, I shall now resume my role as your Princess. I command you to leave me be and go find yourself a woman for the night."

"Amaleigh, please! I just..."

"That is an order, Major, and there is no room for negotiation. Begone!"


	11. Chapter 11

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree #11

"I will not."

The firm proclamation resounded deafeningly in Amaleigh's ears and her eyes involuntarily squeezed shut. What in the hells was he saying? She had just given him an order! How dare he refuse her?

The sharp clomping of booted feet strode to her and then stopped with a confident thud. The blanket was whisked off of her body completely.

Her eyes flew open in shock to meet his sabre-sharp gaze. "Have you really thought about this, Amaleigh? About us? About what it is you ask of me?"

Now it was her turn to be silent. She tried to speak but all she could manage was a startled squeak.

"You may be the Princess, but you are in _my _fort." He gently but firmly pushed her onto her back and boldly appraised her body.

"I am responsible for everything and everyone here, and that includes you."

Amaleigh clenched her fists at her sides as he studied her nakedness. She should be angered by his audacity, but she was not. After all, she had asked him to make love to her. She had wanted him to notice her. Now he was doing just that, in excruciating detail, perhaps, but he _was_ acquiescing to her wishes.

One large hand cupped an ample breast and she squeaked again. His dark eyes bored into hers.

"Frightened, Princess?"

She was, somewhat, but she would be hanged before she would admit it. She shook her head defiantly.

His mouth quirked into a smug smile and he began to fondle her breast, his calloused palm hardening her nipple. Amaleigh gasped but did not protest. His other hand moved to her upper thigh and rested upon it. Once he had ascertained that he had her entire attention, he pushed his thumb into her sex and gently parted her moist folds.

Now she gasped. The sensation was positively electric. Wetness seeped from her and covered his thumb. The resulting triumphant sparkle in his eyes was both a challenge to her and an admission of how desirable he found her.

"Lovely, my dear, positively lovely," he drawled, his voice low and husky. "Have you any knowledge of the marriage bed, Amaleigh?"

"Not... not personally," she whispered, squirming as he began to make small circles with his thumb. Heat coiled in her belly and her hips moved in response to the alien but exquisite sensations.

"Well, neither do I as far as marriage itself is concerned, but I suspect I know a great deal more than you."

Jack withdrew his hands from her and before she could stop herself Amaleigh cried out, "No!"

He chuckled. "Not to worry, my dear. If you truly want me, if you truly want _this, _I will oblige you to the best of my ability."

"I... I do want you, Jack," she whispered hoarsely. Tears welled in her eyes but she fought them back. She was so close to convincing him that she was sincere! "I have such strong feelings for you, and I want us to be together. I want to give our marriage a chance!"

His entire posture relaxed as he let out a long and relieved sigh. His gaze softened and all challenge in his demeanour vanished into the night.

"Then I am, truly this time, at your command."

"But I don't know what to command of you!"

He smiled and she found herself giggling in response. "I really don't, Jack! I'm new to this. Please, will you teach me?"

"Amaleigh, I think you will be surprised at how little there is to 'teach' when it comes to making love. There are no rules; there is only pleasure and sensation and enjoyment of being with each other. Do as you like, tell me what you want, and we will discover what is perfect and unique to us."

"Very well," she replied, delighting at a renewed surge of confidence. "Why don't you begin by taking off all those damned clothes? You've seen all of me, it is only fair that I now see all of you."

"Oh, but I haven't seen all of you, dear Amaleigh." He chuckled at her surprised expression. "Do not fret, I shall eventually demonstrate my meaning."

Her wide eyes fixed helplessly yet eagerly on him as he seated himself on the cot several feet away. She sat up and studied him as he prised off one boot and then the other. Woollen socks followed, and then he slowly stood. His eyes locked with hers. Tanned and work-roughened hands hovered over the buttons on his shirt. For a moment Amaleigh could swear that his hands were trembling, but she must have been mistaken, for he soon had the shirt completely unfastened, pulled from his trousers, and joining his footwear on the floor.

Jack paused to allow her to study his naked torso. Amaleigh had seen men shirtless before but had never one as well-formed as Jack. The thickness of his uniform concealed his musculature, but now she could fully appreciate it. His flesh was bronzed from exposure to the sun and his chest sported a sprinkling of black hair that Amaleigh looked forward to running her fingers through. He bore few scars, thankfully, and she smiled.

He quirked a brow, puzzled. "Amaleigh?"

"I am thankful that you have so few scars. That shows that you are good at what you do."

"You needn't fear for my life, if that is any comfort to you."

"That is not true! Anyone, even you, could..."

He closed the distance between them and clasped her to him. His mouth closed over hers in a kiss so possessive and passionate that she needed no words from him to assure her that he felt he now had more to live for than ever.

Her hands skimmed over his arms and back and then lightly clawed at his forearms. Her hardened nipples were aching, albeit pleasurably, as they rubbed against his firm chest. Her eyes closed, her brain fogged, and she surrendered utterly to his kiss. Misty euphoria enveloped her and her senses sharpened.

Jack's breath was rasping and ragged, his mouth moist and lush, his tongue hot and inquisitive, and his fingers... oh! His fingers were skimming down her belly and toward her femininity.

"May I?" he groaned, halting his exploration. "I can wait, if you need more time."

"Hells, no! Please touch me!"

Euphoria climbed a rainbow staircase to ecstasy when his fingers slid along her slick flesh and then cupped her mound firmly. His index finger teased along her slit while his hand remained still. Gasps escaped her lips and her body jerked as he caressed the most sensitive part of her. Her hips scooted forward in an attempt to force his finger further into her, but Jack held back.

"Whether you like it or not, I am quite determined to take my time, Amaleigh."

"But I..."

"Shhh... I know," he said soothingly, his breath ghosting across her quivering lips, "but I want to arouse you slowly, Amaleigh, and savour every moment."

Her head fell back and she shuddered. "I think it's too late for that! I believe I am as aroused as I can possibly be!"

"Allow me to ascertain that for myself, my dear."

She didn't really have a choice, and even if she did, did she want one? Jack's tongue slid to the pulse-point in her neck and then he fixed his lips to it. The leisurely exploration he had begun subtly changed. His mouth suckled her sensitised flesh and one hand slid down to lightly cup a breast.

"Beautiful," he whispered, "and so soft and tempting. Your lovely 'assets' fill my hands perfectly. Were you made for me, my Amaleigh? Did the gods have pity on me and send you to fill my mind, senses, and heart with such beauty and life?"

Amaleigh's breath hitched. This was the closest he had ever come to saying he loved her! It wasn't precisely the same, but it was close. She did not want to frighten him away from loving her; far from it. If he loved her and she could be certain of it, she would gladly return his love. She would give him anything he wanted of her.

Still, he had not said the words. Not yet. So she responded as eloquently as she could while being stimulated to the point of near-fainting. "No, Jack. I believe they sent you to me!"

His resulting chuckle was low and throaty. "I shall endeavour to live up to that, my dear! You deserve no less."

Lips alternating between soft and firm circled her breasts deliberately teasing her. Light nipping pecks at her nipples sent bolts of tingling heat directly to her loins. Warm and calloused hands slid along her back and her sides and then gripped her hips. Amaleigh's fingers twined through his hair, clenching and unclenching. If her tugging was painful he gave no indication of it.

Suddenly his hot mouth fixed on a nipple and suckled hard. The exquisite tugging sensation radiated straight to her sex and she cried out in delight. His teeth nipped the bud while the fingers of one hand slid into her wetness and boldly stroked her centre.

Her entire body spasmed and shook, her thighs clamped around his hand and her back arched to encourage him to stimulate her nipples even more. She was approaching something wondrous and he knew it! He could give it to her and she had never wanted anything more badly in her life.

"More!" she gasped. "Please, Jack, more! Harder!"

He obliged her by nipping and suckling even more firmly. His fingers circled her sensitised nub teasingly, maddeningly, until she began to buck helplessly against his hand. Only then did he pinch her clit firmly at the same time he moved up to capture her cries of ecstasy in an open-mouthed kiss.

Her entire body was so wracked with pleasure that she could not help but moan and writhe as he held her in her rapture. His breath mingled with hers and she gratefully accepted this precious intimacy that he offered her. She adored sharing his very breath with him. From it she tasted his generous passion and selfless giving of pleasure. She felt beautiful, desirable, cherished, and gloriously alive.

"Jack," she finally whispered against his cheek, "I... I don't know what to say. I've never felt such beautiful and exquisite sensations! And you gave those to me. Thank you."

"I am honoured," he murmured, his lips curving into a smile. His pleased gaze met her dreamy one. "I am humbled and honoured."

Amaleigh reached up and traced a fingertip across his lip and then gently teased his moustache. "Well, why don't you follow up those feelings with other ones? After all, you have yet to take me completely." She kept her tone light, not wanting to risk him pulling away from her again. "I want to feel you inside me, Jack. I want... no... I _need _to feel you. I need all of you. Now."

He searched her eyes as he had earlier, and after only a momentary pause he smiled and nodded. "Yes, my lady." He quickly stripped off his breeches and undergarments and straddled her body. He was over her knees, offering her a good view of his nakedness.

"You may want to study me first, Amaleigh," he said gently. "I had never intended to be your first." His voice suddenly choked and his eyes misted.

"No, please don't feel guilt, Jack! I want this. I want you. I... I have feelings for you that I've never had for another and never will." Goodness, had she said too much? She hurried on. "Please, take me Jack. Accept me. I want this; don't you?"

As she spoke she studied his manhood and blushed. Of course she had seen Elliot's, but once again she found him lacking compared to this man. Jack Swift was more generously endowed than Elliot, but far from feeling trepidation, she felt anticipation. This man would fill and fulfil her in ways that Elliot never could!

She boldly reached out and stroked his member. It lightly jumped against her fingers and she gasped before smiling.

"I do," Jack admitted with a grin. "You know that I do, Amaleigh. But I feel honour-bound to allow you to reconsider." He glanced down at his twitching manhood. "It seems that I am betrayed by my own body!"

"So it would seem," she purred, tracing a fingertip over the smooth head. A small bead of opalescent fluid gathered at the tip. "I think you are more than ready, Major."

He closed his eyes for a long moment and drew a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again they were so dark as to be almost black.

"Aye, I am."

Amaleigh parted her lips in silent invitation. Jack leaned down to kiss her while he slid his body upward. Amaleigh parted her legs and Jack carefully knelt between them. He carefully braced himself above her, balancing himself on his elbows.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

She nodded and clasped his hips. "Come in, Major. I dare say you are cold and I am very warm inside. Warm and most... inviting."

His breathing went from even to ragged in moments and Amaleigh smiled in satisfaction.

Jack Swift slowly eased himself into her tight passage. Amaleigh was uncomfortable as he was so large, but she was ready and eager for him, and her discomfort did not last long.

"Are you all right?" he asked, not allowing himself to enter her fully.

"I am stretching a bit and I ache, but I do not hurt very much," she said. "Please, ease into me completely! I want every bit of you."

"Gods, Amaleigh!" he groaned. He began to thrust slowly. With every few strokes he eased himself a little further inside her.

"Yes, Jack," she encouraged him, "that is so good! More! A little more..."

This new sensation was difficult to describe even to herself. She was uncomfortable, but not painfully so. Her body was stretching to accommodate him and all she knew was that it felt so... right. Yes, it felt absolutely right.

"We did it!" she exclaimed when his belly met hers.

Jack kissed her soundly. "Yes, my lovely one, we did! Are you all right or are you in pain?"

"I am all right, Jack," she said. The gleam in his eyes warmed her heart. "Do I feel good to you?"

"What an absurd question! I have never experienced such heaven, my Amaleigh."

"Then give me everything you've got," she replied, surprised by her own boldness.

Jack was clearly surprised as well, but he smiled and obliged her. He lowered his forehead to hers and slowly thrust in and out of her, never completely leaving her body, but coming quite close. As her body loosened a bit more, he began to pick up the pace.

"Yes, Jack, that's perfect!" she moaned.

Jack drew his head up to look into her face. What he saw must have pleased him, for his resulting expression was nothing short of happy and radiant.

She wanted to tell him to 'love her,' but knew that it was too soon for such words. Instead, she said, "Please take me to that lovely peak again, Jack!"

"It will be my pleasure, my dear!" He surprised her by lifting her thighs and tilting her pelvis upwards. Then she understood why he changed the angle of penetration. He continued to thrust and the root of his cock now stroked her clit, providing her with dual stimulation.

Her head involuntarily slammed down against the mattress as her arousal soared even higher. She was going to come again and this time he would be with her!

Harsh rasping breathing filled the tent along with the heat of their feverish lovemaking. Amaleigh's body broke out in goose-flesh and a trickle of perspiration trailed down Jack's chest. She managed to capture a tiny nipple between her teeth and nip, causing him to yelp softly.

Amaleigh's body stiffened as an intense orgasm washed over her. Jack's member pulsed inside her and he groaned his release.

Both were panting heavily and Jack quickly rolled to his side and gathered her in his arms. He showered her face with kisses and stroked her hair.

"Amaleigh... I have no words! What you have given me is beyond any price. I..."

"Shhh..." she whispered. "You have given me the same!" She nestled her head against his shoulder. He pulled the blanket up and covered them.

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you..." She hesitated, still fearful of frightening him away.

"Will I what, Amaleigh?"

She swallowed nervously and then forced herself to continue. "Will you keep me?"

Amaleigh started violently when he burst out laughing.

"Will I keep you?" He gently gripped her chin and tilted her face upward. He gazed into her wide eyes and chuckled. "Amaleigh, I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to keep you."

She smiled happily and nuzzled her face into his neck.

She did not see Jack's eyes flit to the table at the other end of the tent and alight on a folded piece of correspondence. And she did not see him frown.


	12. Chapter 12

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

_Warning – a bit of Elliot-bashing. Please, no-one take it personally! This is only for the purpose of this story. :)_

Love By Decree #12

"So, Logan wants to see me," Amaleigh said flatly, tossing the parchment back onto Jack's desk. "Whatever for? He made it quite plain to me that I am a bother to him and he wanted me out of his way. And now that I am gone and 'growing up' as he so eloquently put it, he suddenly decides I must go to him?"

"That is what worries me," Jack murmured, his eyes following the fluttering paper Amaleigh had casually cast aside. "Logan has a reason for everything he says and does. Besides, he also has a most disturbing knack of getting everything he wants."

She turned to him and gripped his lapels. "Jack," she said, looking intently into his eyes, "why are you worried about this? Perhaps he merely wants to see how we are getting on."

The Major covered her hands with his and gave her a small smile. "I wish I could believe that, dearest. Remember that he married you to me as a punishment to you. He wanted you out of the castle, away from everything you have ever known, and he also wanted you to be unhappy; at least for a time. I think he hoped that you would grow into the sort of woman he wanted you to be, and then..." Jack stopped and shook his head. "No, I beg your pardon; I must be addled in the head. Forgive my rambling, my dear."

"No, Jack, I certainly will not! What is it you think?"

His demeanour, which usually was confident and stoic, was now uncertain and uncomfortable. The creases around his eyes were deeper than usual and his jaw was unusually tight.

"I think he hopes that I will die here and you will be free; free to marry another of his choice. Or even free to marry... him."

Amaleigh suppressed the urge to laugh. Jack was serious and if he was serious than she knew she should not dismiss his concerns out of hand. However, she did have one question she needed to ask him.

"Jack, I can see how he may not care over-much for his soldiers. I can also see why Logan may wish to find someone else to marry me to if he thinks such a union would benefit him. But why would you think he would want to marry me himself? Such things have not been done in centuries! Royals no longer marry, and besides, Logan finds me a tolerable at best. I think he'd rather I not be anywhere near him."

"Do you really believe that, Amaleigh? You did not see his face as he was marrying you to me. I know remorse when I see it."

"If he felt remorse than it was because he had upset me so! After all, he is my brother. I'm sure he felt guilty that I was so...reluctant."

Amaleigh pulled Jack's head down and kissed him soundly. "But I am not reluctant, nor am I regretful any longer, my bonnie Major!"

His entire posture relaxed and he seated himself in the chair behind his desk. He pulled her into his lap and nuzzled his nose into her neck and hair. She giggled. He grasped her sides and rested his thumbs just beneath her breasts. She gasped and flushed.

"Say that again," he urged huskily, moving his thumbs higher.

"I am regretful no longer, Jack!"

"Ah, that is precisely what I needed to hear!" His thumbs skimmed over her nipples, hardening them at once.

Amaleigh gasped and pushed her breasts forward into his hands.

"Ah, ah!" he said teasingly, drawing back just enough to continue teasing her but not giving her a full caress. "Not until you tell me something else I need to hear."

"I dare say I'll tell you anything you want, Jack!"

"Hmm...but you must mean it, my dearest Amaleigh. I'll accept nothing but the truth. It is a truth I...need." He moved his hands down to rest upon her hips and gazed into her face, serious once more.

"I am sorry to spoil the mood, Amaleigh, but I..."

He stopped and swallowed thickly. She could see that he needed something from her, and perhaps it was more than a few simple answers. Well, it was past time, was it not? It was time for them to be honest with each other if they were to have a future together.

"Jack, stop hesitating and ask! I'll be truthful; I promise. I think I can also promise that you will not be disappointed in anything I have to say."

She was pleased to see his face relax and his mouth curve ever so slightly into a smile.

"I hope to ask all the right questions then, my dear!" he said lightly...too lightly.

It was obvious to her that he was still apprehensive.

"Go on," she replied with equal levity. "I dare you!"

Her light-hearted challenge seemed to calm him, for he relaxed even more and pulled her snugly against his chest. She loved sitting on his lap and being held like this. It was both reassuring and arousing; quite a pleasant mixture!

"Amaleigh, I have intelligence regarding your young man, Elliot. My sources have discovered where he has been lodging, and..."

"I could not care less," she retorted. She leaned forward and nuzzled the tip of his nose with hers. "Now, ask me something that we _should_ care about!"

"How can you not care?" he blurted out in shock. "Amaleigh, he was..."

"Yes, Jack," she interjected, "he _was, _but he is no longer. He was my childhood friend and we were sweethearts because we knew no-one else. Ours was a adolescent infatuation. Besides," she said, looking down at his uniform and tracing a finger along the neckline of his shirt, "he must not have cared for me very much to speak to me of his previous conquests."

Jack's eyes widened and a look of pure disdain crossed his face. "He _what?" _

Amaleigh sighed as she remembered the night she nearly gave Elliot her virginity. "I offered myself to him once in desperation, and he said that it was right and proper that I be pure but that he need not be... or some such rot. He said that in order to please me it was necessary for him to go out and about and be with other women first."

"I cannot fathom what he was thinking to say such a thing to you," Jack said slowly, unmistakable anger underlying his tone. "It was once true that men believed such nonsense, or rather they wanted to believe it in order to do as they pleased before marriage; but to tell the woman they profess to love..."

His voice broke and he closed his eyes, plainly struggling to regain some measure of calm.

"Amaleigh, I hope you do not believe such poppycock."

"I must confess that I do not believe in his 'cock' at all, Major. I've seen it and it is not terribly impressive."

His eyes flew open and he burst out laughing and Amaleigh joined him moments later. "I suppose that I should not laugh at another man's...ah...misfortune, physical and verbal, but I cannot help it." When they both calmed down to periodic chuckles he added, "But seeing as I am the benefactor of his loss, meaning that I now have you, my dear, I cannot help but be delirious with joy."

Amaleigh's heart swelled with hope. "So...you really feel lucky to have me?"

His large warm hands cradled her face and his dark eyes filled with tenderness. "Can you doubt it? I am the luckiest man in Albion, Amaleigh."

He still hadn't said the words she longed to hear, but perhaps they would soon come! She could feel how happy he was and saw the sincerity and affection in his eyes. Surely he loved her; or if not, he soon would.

"And I am the luckiest woman, Jack Swift," she replied, not bothering to keep her tone light. She wanted him to know how much he meant to her. "Now, any more questions?"

"Aye, one for now. But please, Amaleigh, for both our sakes, be completely honest and certain of your response."

"Very well," she said. "I am not afraid and I do believe I am more than ready for any question you have."

The Major cleared his throat. "Do you think you could ever come to love me, Amaleigh? Ah... I do not expect a grand and epic sort of love from a beautiful and young woman such as yourself, but perhaps love of some measure?"

His eyes wavered and his mouth tightened. He was nervous! This man was truly nervous and fearful of her response!

"Or perhaps affection mixed with regard? I would never ask or expect anything from you that you are unwilling or unable to give, Amaleigh, and I will be happy with anything you can give me, but..."

Amaleigh seriously took each end of his moustache between her thumbs and forefingers and pulled his head gently towards hers. She kissed him soundly before releasing him and smoothing his perfectly groomed upper lip plumage back to its previous glory.

"Jack, I love you already. I have for some time, but I allowed myself time to be certain of it. I am now absolutely and completely certain. I know my mind and my heart, and they are yours." She smiled warmly as his pupils dilated and his lips parted. "As an added bonus, my body is yours, as well." She turned her face to kiss his palm. "I love you grandly and epically, my bonnie Major."

His eyes bored into hers for several long moments and all was utterly still. Amaleigh was not nervous, however, for she knew he was processing what she had revealed. She returned his gaze fearlessly and waited. He would speak when he was ready, and they had plenty of time.

At long last he cleared his throat. His hands trembled violently as they slowly cradled her face. After a few more moments he began to speak.

"Amaleigh, I have thought long and hard upon my actions toward you. I have not behaved as an honourable gentleman, although that is what I told myself. I was not protecting you from a man much older than yourself to spare you future grief. I was not being selfless in attempting to both push you away and dislike me so you could leave me and marry a younger man. In short, I have been nothing less than a complete ass."

That was not what she had expected. "But you _were _trying to protect me!"

He smiled wryly and shook his head. "No, I was not. I have deceived us both with that lie." He traced a thumb over her lower lip gently and his gaze softened. "Amaleigh, the difference in our ages is considerable; but if you do not mind, why should I? Oh, I can concoct any number of reasons and so can you, but in the end what do those reasons matter? Above all, you deserve a man who loves you for who you are and everything you are and could be. You deserve a man who will stand by you no matter what comes your way. You deserve nothing less than absolute love, respect, and devotion. Those are things I can offer you a thousandfold, Amaleigh. I may inhabit the frame of an ageing man with joints that stiffen in the winter, but as long as I live I will give you all of myself that I can. I swear upon my honour and my very life."

Tears welled in Amaleigh's eyes and she kissed her husband with tear-wet lips and a desperation that took them both by surprise. "I love you, Jack Swift, and don't you dare give up your life for any reason! You are mine now and I am yours. Promise me you will take care of yourself and live a very long time!"

Jack kissed her and stroked her back and her hair until her tears subsided. "I love you, Amaleigh, and I promise you that I will stay with you in this world as long as I can. But when I leave it, my dear, I shall be awaiting you in the next."

"Well," she sniffed, taking the handkerchief he offered her and dabbing away the remainder of her tears, "I suppose that will have to do."

He chuckled. "I am most pleased to be of service, my Lady."

"Speaking of," Amaleigh added, "you did promise me a full 'caress' if I answered your question."

"Ah, I am afraid I cannot do that, my dear." His full lips curved into a suggestive smile. "Seeing as how you are more irresistible than you were a few moments ago, though gods only know how that is possible, I am compelled to give you far more than a mere 'caress.'"

Amaleigh leapt from his lap and rushed to the bed. She began to work at the laces of her bodice as she turned her head and flashed him a saucy smile. "So, you are taking me up on my promise that my body is yours as well as my heart?"

"Absolutely, my dear. And this time, I promise to enjoy you much more thoroughly than I did last night." He strode to the bed and fixed his dark gaze on her nimble fingers.

"Meaning that I will be even more pleased with your incredible skills?" she teased. "Well, I doubt that! You gave me pleasures last night that I never imagined existed." Half of her laces were now undone.

"Then be prepared to discover even more, dearest Amaleigh. I have many things I desire to do to you, with you, and plenty of time for them all."

Amaleigh finished unlacing her bodice and positioned herself on the bed laying on her side. She smiled and beckoned to him.

"Come to me, Jack, and do anything you desire! I'm all yours."

_Logan can damned well wait, _Jack thought as he joined his wife on the small bed. Amaleigh's resulting moans and sighs were more than enough to erase any lingering guilt for keeping his wife to himself a while longer.


	13. Chapter 13

I do not own "Fable 3" or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 XBOX game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

This story is based on a wonderful suggestion by Fallon-Idalia. We both want to explore the idea of a 'forced marriage' and here is one possible result in the Fable-Universe!

When the Princess begs her brother, King Logan, to spare the villagers and her childhood love, he decides to honour her request – but she must pay dearly.

Love By Decree #13

Albion's king frowned as he read the most recent page in the Royal Ledger. The amount of gold in the coffers once would have been considered quite sufficient for the Kingdom's needs, but with the army he intended to raise for the coming years it was pitifully lacking. The amount of gold was currently enough to maintain Albion's cities and current army, but the People were beginning to suffer.

Logan no longer had the monies required to keep the learning institutions, shelters, orphanages, and the other various charitable organisations open and available to the populace. If he wanted to raise and maintain a large army to be ready to protect Albion as a whole, those things needed to be set aside. And besides that, he needed to raise taxes once again to properly maintain the soldiers he currently had.

The People were already beginning to see him as a heartless ruler. How long until they outright condemned him as a tyrant? He had felt compelled to raise the taxes on alcohols and tobacco, and within the next week he would implement a tax on any family with more than one child. He was becoming desperate, and that was the reason he decided to summon his sister to him. At the moment he could not think of anyone other than Amaleigh who could truly help him keep Albion secure and fortify it against the Darkness that the Seeress, Theresa, their Hero mother's Guide, had shown him was coming.

Yes, Amaleigh could well be the solution; or at least a goodly part of it. If she agreed to co-operate, and he could not see any possibility of her refusing, then all could yet be well. He was now extremely glad and relieved that he had heeded her plea for mercy that fateful day.

* * *

><p>Amaleigh sat in Logan's office wringing her hands. With a silent curse she forced herself to stop the nervous movement and firmly place her hands flat upon her thighs.<p>

What was there to fret about? She had arrived early, been shown in by Logan's secretary, and now all she had to do was wait for her brother.

She had, during her time away, grown from a wilful and spoiled young Princess into a much more mature and capable woman. Her budding Hero abilities were being honed by constant practice and training, and her once wild heart and flights of fancy were now turned toward true love, compassion, and in doing the most good she was able. Was she now the woman Logan had wanted her to become by marrying her to such a fine man as the Major?

Perhaps that was why he wanted to see her personally. No doubt he was quite curious to find out how she was settling into her new life. Hopefully he would be pleased that she had adjusted so well and was happy.

Two brisk knocks sounded on the door and then her brother swept into the room. Amaleigh quickly rose and curtsied before him. She avoided direct eye contact until she saw, from the corner of her eye, Logan nod and gesture for her to resume her seat.

When she met his gaze she was surprised to see him smiling. It was not a full smile, as he had lost that particular ability since he had become the hardened man of recent years, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Amaleigh felt herself relax enough to return it.

"My dear sister, thank you for coming."

"It is my pleasure, Logan. You are my brother, after all."

"Yes, well, keep that in mind while I relate some good news," he said.

His pallor had not lessened since she had last seen him, and the steely glint in his eyes was still ever-present, but he appeared more at ease than she had expected. Truly, she had not known what to expect, but her brother bearing not only a smile but good news was not a probability she ever would have anticipated.

"Good news?" she heard herself dumbly repeat. "Logan, of course I am pleased to meet with you, but why would you need to see me in person to relate good news?"

Logan leaned forward over the desk and took her hands into his. He wasn't wearing gloves, she vaguely noticed. His flesh was cool and his fingers gripped her hands tightly as his gaze bored into hers.

"Because it concerns us both, dear sister." His grip tightened and his cool fingers twitched, betraying the briefest moment of tension. "Amaleigh, what is the wish dearest to your heart? What do you desire above all else?"

His pale lips thinned and his jaw tensed as he leaned forward, eagerly awaiting her response. He was thin and gaunt, as per normal for him, but his leanness belied the nervous and determined energy emanating from him. That nearly palpable energy was so powerful to Amaleigh that she wondered that his body could contain it.

"Well, Logan," she stammered, completely taken off guard by such a query, "I ... I need a moment to think." She took a deep breath. Logan's grip on her hands tightened yet again until it was nearly painful. What did he want to hear? Did he truly want to know what she wanted, or did he want to hear what he himself most desired?

She decided upon the truth rather than platitudes. Her brother had always had an uncanny knack for ferreting out nothing less. "I want, most of all, to live out my life with Jack, bear him children if he so desires, and be the best possible wife for him. I want him to be as happy with me as I am with him."

Logan's grip on her hands was beginning to hurt her now, but she forged on. "Ideally, I want Albion to be safe and well so that Jack can retire from the Army and for us to ... to perhaps live in the Lodge that Mother had built as a retreat for her and father."

There. She had told Logan the truth. She had bared her dearest desire to him.

Logan's eyes slowly narrowed, his thinned lips whitened, and the hollows in his cheeks deepened. He flung her hands away from him as if he were repulsed and rose to his feet.

"How can you say such things?" he barked out angrily, then quickly recovered his poise when Amaleigh gasped and flinched.

"Amaleigh," he began again, seating himself once more and visibly struggling to regain his composure, "I need the truth from you. Please do not think that you need to lie in order to please me. I married you to Swift, and you wanted no part of him. I told you to be happy with him, but he is so much older than you! I ... " He swallowed thickly. "It is true that I wanted you to grow and mature, but there is no possible way that you could have done that over a mere handful of months, and certainly not with a man other than the one you truly love!"

But Amaleigh saw that even though he spoke with a tone of certainty, his expression did not show that he believed his own words.

Now it was her turn to swallow, for her throat had gone quite dry. The promise of good news for her was now a leaden weight in her belly. She could see where Logan was taking this conversation and the beginnings of raw fear began to tingle down her spine.

"But I have matured, Logan. Oh, I know I have not yet become the woman I will be, but I am growing closer to her every day!" Could she appease him by appealing to the wisdom of his decision regarding her well-being that awful day that now seemed so long ago? "You were right to marry me to the Major. He is a fine man and his character is everything you promised me. He is perfect for me, just as you said he would be, and I am learning so much from him. I am no longer the spoiled little sister and wilful brat you knew before I left the Castle."

She forced a smile, as Logan was stoically showing no sign that he was pleased with her response. "I love him, Logan. As we came to know each other, I fell in love with him and he with me! We are very happy together and can only become more so with time." His stern visage remained unyielding as stone. She floundered on, fuelled by desperation as he was clearly displeased. "Logan, you were right about everything! I am so abjectly grateful to you that I can never repay you. You gave me a gift beyond price. Is that not what you wanted for me?"

Amaleigh helplessly watched as her brother morphed from a man taut with displeasure to one rigid with fury. He stood and slammed a fist down upon the table, making the wood creak. Tears instantly welled in her eyes and a wave of chilling nausea swept over her entire body. She began to tremble as Logan pounded his fist down once again.

"I will not tolerate such lies!" he roared.

But she knew that he was wilfully denying what was nothing less than the truth from her.

"Logan..."

"Silence!" he thundered, rounding the table and seizing her by her upper arms. He hauled her to her feet. "The time for civilities is over, dear sister. I tried, I really tried, to give you a choice opportunity. You failed to take it, but I shall give it to you nonetheless. I shall divorce you from the Major at once and marry you to the man you should have married in the first place. From this moment on you shall never see Swift again. You will be the bride of the man you have loved since you were a child; the young man, Elliot."

What was going on? Amaleigh's vision blurred and the sickening ringing in her ears rendered Logan's voice distant and almost indistinct. Her knees buckled but Logan held her upright.

"You shall marry Elliot and help me preserve Albion," he said, more softly now but no less firmly. "You shall return to your old quarters. They are unchanged. You are officially a resident of this Castle once more."

Cold sweat trickled down her neck and spine and the tears that had threatened to spill before now cascaded in rivulets down her cheeks.

"Stop these pathetic theatrics at once, Amaleigh! I am the King and you will obey me without question. I need you and I need your marriage to that boy."

"But I'm no longer a virgin," she managed to whisper. That had been important to him before. Could it save her now?

But he mercilessly quashed that hope. "I don't care. That possibility has already been discussed with him and is of no concern to either of us. He wants you as his wife, I have approved, and that is the end of the matter. Now, not another word, Amaleigh. You shall be escorted to your rooms while I prepare the divorce decree."

She took a risk and spoke despite his order. "Isn't there anything I can do to change your mind? Anything at all?"

He smiled wryly and chuckled, but not an iota of humour was betrayed. "Anything, you say? Why, yes, my dear, there is," he said sardonically. "You can raise six million coins and purchase your freedom. But we both know that will happen when the hells freeze."

Logan turned toward the closed office door. "Guards! Escort my sister to her rooms and have her attended to."

At once the door opened and two of the purple and gold clad guards took her gently by each arm.

"Come along, Princess," one of them said sombrely, and perhaps sympathetically? "You'll be all right."

Amaleigh began to helplessly sob in earnest. How could anything be right for her ever again?


End file.
